Source  Readers 
in  American  Hi'stor 


Wilt 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

University  of  California 


gift  OF 


.  Class 


Source-Readers  in  American  History  —  No.  IV 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    THE 
CIVIL    WAR 


<>  # 


,T 


*&fofe- 


\,  \  B  R  A  fl- 
OF  THE 

UMVERS/TY 

o.     OF 


THE  UNION  SOLDIER. 


Source-Readers   in  American    History  —  No.  4 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  THE 
CIVIL   WAR 


SELECTED    AND    ANNOTATED    BY 

ALBERT    BUSHNELL    HART 

Of  Harvard   University 
WITH    THE    COLLABORATION    OF 

ELIZABETH    STEVENS 


With    Many  Illustrations 


NEW   YORK 
THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

LONDON :   MACMILLAN   &  CO.,  Ltd. 
I9O3 

All  rights  reserved 


Contents 


PAGE 

Introduction  for  Teachers     ...%.....       ix 

PART    I 
On  the  Plantation I 

PART    II 
The  Underground  Railroad  and  the  Contraband     .        .  51 

PART   III 
In  and  Out  of  the  Army n7 

PART   IV 
Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors l77 

PART  V 
In  Camp  and  on  the  March 219 

PART   VI 
Under  Fire 283 

PART   VII 
On  Deck 342 

PART   VIII 

Women  and  the  War •        •        •     3&1 

vii 


INTRODUCTION    FOR   TEACHERS 

The  problem  of  the  use  of  sources  in  the  grammar 
schools  has  been  stated  in  the  introductions  to  the  pre- 
ceding volumes  of  this  series,  and  need  not  be  here  re- 
peated. The  book  has  been  prepared  in  the  belief  that 
the  child  of  the  grammar  grades  is  as  capable  of  finding 
pleasure  in  the  presence  of  the  realities  of  history,  and 
stands  in  as  much  need  of  the  intellectual  alertness  that 
comes  from  acquaintance  with  unbiassed  statements  of 
fact,  as  the  more  mature  student. 

The  higher  age  of  the  pupils  who  will  use  this  book 
and  the  nature  of  the  subject,  have  made  possible  some 
differences  between  this  volume  and  those  that  precede 
it.  In  the  first  place,  fewer  changes  have  been  made  in 
the  selections  ;  the  authors  are  more  nearly  contemporary, 
and  their  style  needs  little  or  no  change  to  make  it  com- 
prehensible, so  that  omissions  have  been  made  chiefly  for 
the  sake  of  brevity ;  further,  children  of  say  twelve  years 
old  can  easily  look  up  for  themselves  such  words  and 
phrases  as  they  do  not  at  once  understand. 

In  the  second  place,  this  volume  deals  with  a  field  that 
is  at  once  extensive  and  compact.  The  first  and  the  third 
volumes  dealt  with  two  periods  of  development,  —  of  dis- 
covery and  colonization,  and  of  readjustment  and  growth 
after  the  Revolution.  Like  Volume  II,  on  the  War  for 
Independence,  Volume  IV  has  the  definite  subject  of  the 
Civil  War;  but  the  field  is  broader,  and  there  is  more 
need  of  making  clear  the  experiences  of  both  sides  to  the 
controversy. 


x  Introduction 

The  third  difference  is  the  stress  laid  on  personality. 
A  close  personal  relation  may  very  possibly  be  found  to 
exist  between  the  authors  and  the  readers,  for  many  of 
the  pieces  were  written  by  slave-holders,  slaves,  poor 
whites,  abolitionists,  journalists,  novelists,  poets,  teachers, 
generals,  privates,  troopers,  midshipmen,  rear-admirals, 
Southern  women,  Northern  nurses,  surgeons,  and  chap- 
lains,—  some  of  whom  are  alive  now  and  perhaps  known 
to  the  children  who  use  the  book.  Personality  stands  out 
clearly  also,  because  many  of  the  authors  are  men  and 
women  whose  names  and  faces  are  familiar  in  every  home 
in  America,  names  such  as  Grant,  Lee,  Sherman,  Farragut, 
Harriet  Beecher  Stowe,  and  Louisa  May  Alcott.  Again, 
many  of  the  selections  are  direct  character  sketches,  and 
reveal  an  intimate  knowledge  of  such  men  as  John  Brown 
(No.  17),  John  Morgan  (No.  33),  General  Lee  (No.  48),  and 
John  Ericsson  (No.  90)  ;  while  others,  indirectly,  by  sug- 
gestion, portray  such  well-known  people  as  "  Jeb  "  Stuart 
(Nos.  35,  61)  and  Grant  (Nos.  44,  47,  66). 

The  book  makes  no  attempt  to  give  any  continued  nar- 
rative of  the  war;  events  are  not  mentioned  exactly  in 
their  sequence  ;  many  important  battles  are  not  described  ; 
no  stress  is  laid  on  the  political  conditions  at  work  outside 
of  the  army.  The  Reader  tells  merely  the  romance,  sad 
or  joyful  as  the  case  may  be,  that  hung  over  the  war,  and 
by  detached  incidents,  some  descriptive,  some  narrative, 
endeavors  to  bring  out  the  personality  of  the  men  and 
women  who  took  part  in  the  struggle. 

The  plan  of  the  Reader  is  to  furnish  both  descriptive 
and  narrative  pieces  arranged  as  follows :  Part  I,  On  the 
Plantation,  treats  of  slave  life  before  the  war ;  it  shows 
Southern  economic  conditions,  some  good,  some  bad, 
some  with  much  to  be  said  on  both  sides.  Part  II,  The 
Underground    Railroad    and   the    Contraband,    describes 


Introduction  xi 

scenes  that  actually  took  place  in  the  attempt  to  free  the 
negro,  and  pictures  the  ultimate  result  of  the  effort.  Part 
III,  In  and  Out  of  the  Army,  describes  enlistment,  en- 
campment, and  transportation.  Part  IV,  Boy  Soldiers 
and  Sailors,  shows  what  responsibilities  were  given  to 
children  forty  years  ago,  and  the  conditions  under  which 
our  fathers  spent  their  boyhood.  Parts  V  and  VI,  In 
Camp  and  on  the  March,  and  Under  Fire,  bring  the 
reader  into  the  actual  presence  of  war  about  as  the  aver- 
age soldier  saw  it.  Part  VII,  On  Deck,  recalls  the  impor- 
tance of  the  Union  fleet  during  the  entire  war.  Part  VIII, 
Women  and  the  War,  tells  of  the  devotion  and  sacrifices 
of  women,  both  North  and  South,  and  gives  an  idea  of  the 
conditions  endured  by  non-combatants  on  both  sides. 

By  putting  together  pieces  which  are  perhaps  not  con- 
secutively printed,  the  teacher  may  make  out  many  special 
topics  and  subdivisions.  On  slavery,  for  example,  the 
Southern  view  is  given  by  the  cheerful  picture  in  Happy 
Days  on  the  Plantation  (No.  i),  in  the  Experience  of  a 
Governess  in  a  Southern  Planter's  House  (No.  3),  and  in 
two  descriptions  by  a  Southern  journalist,  A  Pompous  Old 
Negro,  and  A  Slave  Auction  (Nos.  10,  11).  The  Northern 
view  is  shown  in  the  two  selections  from  "  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin  "  (Nos.  5,6);  in  a  poor  white's  Opinion  of  Slavery 
(tf  o.  9),  and  indirectly  in  such  incidents  as  that  of  the 
Quick-witted  Negro  (No.  20).  The  slave's  own  view  is 
shown  in  Charity  Bowery's  narrative  (No.  2),  and  in  the 
scenes  of  misery  and  hopelessness  described  by  a  news- 
paper correspondent  (Nos.  22,  23). 

It  is  important  also  to  bring  out  the  direct  relations  of 
the  North  with  the  slaves.  The  workings  of  the  Under- 
ground Railroad  are  vividly  described  by  a  Cincinnati 
operator  (No.  12),  and  show  the  discomforts  and  dangers 
that  attended  these  movements.     Two  of  the  most  notable 


xii  Introduction 

escapes,  managed  by  a  colored  woman,  Harriet  Tubman, 
are  told  in  No.  14  ;  and  the  rescue  of  a  colored  man  named 
Jerry  (No.  15)  shows  the  height  to  which  popular  excite- 
ment rose ;  the  service  of  the  negroes  in  the  ranks  is 
described  in  No.  86,  and  the  outside  help  which  the 
negroes  constantly  gave  the  Yankees  in  No.  85. 

Although  no  attempt  is  made  to  give  a  list  of  battles,  it 
must  not  be  forgotten  that  fighting  is  the  natural  end  and 
aim  of  war ;  and  the  teacher  may  find  it  expedient  to 
group  under  one  topic  the  dismay  of  the  terrible  rout  at 
Bull  Run  (No.  76),  the  dramatic  scene  in  Hampton  Roads, 
when  the  little  Monitor  established  the  supremacy  of  the 
Union  fleet  (No.  91),  Keenan's  spirited  charge  at  Chan- 
cellorsville  (No.  81),  the  awful  crisis  of  Gettysburg,  told 
in  stately  verse  (No.  84),  and  the  manoeuvres  at  Chicka- 
mauga  (No.  87). 

The  technicalities  of  naval  warfare  are  brought  out  in 
several  selections,  and  picture  maps  might  be  drawn  to 
show  the  manoeuvres  described  in  such  actions  as  the 
fight  between  the  Monitor  and  the  Merrimac  (No.  91), 
Chasing  a  Blockade  Runner  (No.  92),  Sinking  the  Tecumseh 
(No.  93),  Running  the  Batteries  on  the  Mississippi  River 
(Nos.  94,  96),  the  Escape  of  the  Sumter  (No.  95),  and  the 
Sinking  of  the  Albemarle  (No.  98). 

The  average  personal  experience  of  a  private  might  be 
worked  out  by  studying  the  conditions  of  his  enlistment 
and  transportation  to  the  seat  of  war  (Nos.  30,  31),  his 
housing  and  the  way  in  which  he  spent  his  spare  time 
(No.  58),  his  food  (No.  59),  a  sudden  order  to  march 
(Nos.  34,  60),  the  encampment  before  the  battle  (No.  71), 
the  sudden  plunge  into  the  fight  (Nos.  74,  80),  and  the 
care  taken  of  him  at  the  hospital  (No.  105). 

Many  of  the  selections  will  hold  the  interest  of  the 
pupils  simply  as  stories  to  be  read  in  quiet  hours.     Every 


Introduction  xiii 

boy  will  thrill  at  the  daring  and  subtlety  of  the  scout  in 
Nos.  36  and  37,  and  will  glow  with  enthusiasm  over  the 
Cavalry  Raid  (No.  79) ;  while  Mrs.  Pickard's  story  of  the 
kidnapped  children  (Nos.  4,  7,  8)  will  appeal  to  every  child 
who  is  moved  by  the  misfortunes  of  mankind. 

The  work  of  women  during  the  war  must  not  be  for- 
gotten, and  Mrs.  Livermore's  account  of  a  single  day  at 
the  rooms  of  the  Sanitary  Commission  (No.  99)  will  give 
some  idea  of  the  amount  of  organization,  skill,  patience, 
hard  work,  and  expert  aid  necessary  to  maintain  a  national 
army  in  the  field  and  to  care  for  the  sick  and  wounded. 
Louisa  May  Alcott  and  Clara  Barton  (Nos.  104,  109)  are 
but  two  of  the  devoted  women  who  had  the  strength, 
energy,  and  courage  necessary  to  care  for  those  who  gave 
life  and  limb  for  their  country. 

The  sufferings  of  the  Southern  women  about  whose 
homes  the  struggle  took  place  are  told  by  Mrs.  Eliza 
Ripley  (Nos.  101,  107),  and  no  writer  has  yet  surpassed 
the  unknown  Southern  Lady  who  describes  the  woes  un- 
speakable of  the  besieged  at  Vicksburg  (Nos.  55,  82,  8^). 
The  work  of  women  for  the  colored  race  began  after  the 
war  was  over,  and  some  of  the  difficulties  are  described 
by  a  teacher  in  Nos.  19,  24,  25,  and  26. 

A  large  part  of  our  national  poetry  has  centred  about 
the  Civil  War,  and  nearly  all  the  poets  are  represented  in 
this  volume.  The  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic  (No.  i8)> 
The  Cavalry  Charge  (No.  75),  Barbara  Frietchie  (No.  106), 
and  O  Captain !  My  Captain  (No.  88)  are  poems  that 
every  American  child  should  know  by  heart.  Keenan's 
Charge  (No.  81)  and  Sheridan's  Ride  (No.  73)  are  spir- 
ited, and  show  the  vigor  with  which  our  fathers  rhymed 
their  sentiments.  The  three  war  songs  given  in  No.  70 
are  everywhere  familiar,  and  may  well  be  sung  anew. 

This  list  of  topics  is  not  meant  to  be  exhaustive ;    it 


xiv  Introduction 

is  simply  a  suggestion  of  what  may  be  done  in  the  way 
of  making  the  book  both  profitable  and  enjoyable.  The 
Civil  War  is  too  near  and  too  partisan  for  this  generation 
to  have  any  one  authoritative  opinion  about  it ;  and  this 
volume  is  sent  forth  with  the  hope  that  even  pupils  of  say 
the  ninth  grade  may  come  to  add  some  of  the  human 
experiences  of  our  fathers  to  the  narratives  of  history. 

ELIZABETH    STEVENS. 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    THE 
CIVIL    WAR 


PART  I 
ON   THE    PLANTATION 


i.    Happy  Days  on  the  Plantation 

By  Susan  Dabney  Smedes  (1840) 

On  wedding  occasions,  the  bride  always  expected 
a  good  many  gifts,  besides  materials  for  a  cake ;  and 
some  of  the  master's  family  must  be  present.  The 
mistress's  big  prayer-book  was  taken  over,  and  the 
marriage  service  read  by  one  of  the  young  masters. 
The  slaves  would  not  be  satisfied  unless  the  bride 
and  the  cake  were  duly  complimented. 

At  one  of  the  weddings  the  bridegroom  did  not 
respond  when  his  time  came.  "  Solomon,"  said  the 
young  master,  "  say  thou  wilt."  "  Thou  wilt,"  repeated 
Solomon  in  his  most  solemn  voice.  The  marriage 
ceremony  went  on.  "  Courtenay,  wilt  thou  have  this 
man  to  thy  wedded  husband  to  live  together  after 
God's  holy  ordinance  in  the  holy  estate  of  matrimony  ? 
Wilt  thou  obey  him,  and  serve  him,  love,  honor,  and 
keep  him  in  sickness  and  in  health ;  and,  forsaking 
all  others,  keep  thee  only  unto  him,  so  long  as  ye 
both  shall  live  ?  "     "  I  does,"  responded  the  bride. 

The  nurse  who  took  care  of  the  women  when  their 
babies  were  born  received  a  fee  each  time.  The 
mothers  themselves  looked   upon   these   seasons   as 


The  subject 
which  most 
interested 
people,  north 
and  south, 
from  1830  to 
1862,  was  Af- 
rican slavery 
in  the  South- 
ern states. 
No  one  can 
understand 
the  life  of  the 
time  or  the 
course  of 
American 
history  with- 
out knowing 
something  of 
the  condi- 
tions of  slav- 
ery and  the 
treatment  of 
slaves  — 
sometimes 
very  cruel 
and  more  of- 
ten as  kind 
as  was  pos- 
sible where 


On   the    Plantation 


[No.   i 


the  poverty 
or  death  of  a 
master  might 
make  it  nec- 
essary to 
sell  the 
household 
slaves.     This 
account  was 
written  by  the 
daughter  of  a 
living  slave- 
holder.    Ser- 
vant was  the 
word  com- 
monly used 
in  the  South 
instead  of 
slave. 


gala  times.  They  were  provided  with  flour,  sugar, 
dried  fruit,  and  often  meals  from  the  table,  and  a 
woman  to  do  all  their  cooking,  washing,  and  house- 
work for  a  month.  Their  cabins  were  clean  and 
orderly,  their  beds  gay  with  bright  quilts,  and  often 
the  pillows  were  snowy  enough  to  tempt  any  head. 

When  we  children  were  allowed  to  go  to  see  some 
of  the  servants,  they  delighted  in  setting  out  a  little 
feast.  If  they  had  nothing  else,  we  were  not  allowed 
to  go  without  bringing  home  a  new-laid  egg  or  two. 
Once  at  Christmas,  Mammy  Harriet  gave  a  "high 
tea  "to  us  children.  I  was  at  that  time  about  four- 
teen years  of  age,  the  oldest  invited. 

Mammy  had  made  a  nice  cake  and  hot  biscuits 
and  tea  for  the  occasion,  set  out  in  her  choicest  cups, 
some  of  rare  old  china,  with  sugar  in  the  sugar-bowl 
that  she  had  inherited  from  her  mother.  She  gave 
us  besides,  sweetmeats,  nuts,  raisins,  fruits  of  several 
kinds  —  indeed,  a  delightful  tea  ;  and  she  stood  behind 
us  waiting  on  the  table,  looking  very  much  pleased, 
her  bright  bandanna  handkerchief  towering  aloft  on 
her  head. 

The  children  delighted  in  teaching  the  house-ser- 
vants. One  night  a  twelve-year  old  school-mistress 
formally  invited  the  whole  family,  the  master,  mistress, 
governess,  and  guests,  to  hear  her  pupils  recite  poetry. 
She  had  about  a  dozen  of  the  maids,  old  and  young, 
Mammy  Maria  among  them.  One  of  the  guests  was 
quite  astonished  to  see  his  own  slave,  whom  he  had 
brought  with  him  to  Burleigh,  get  up  and  recite  a 
piece  of  poetry  that  had  been  learned  with  pains  for 
this  occasion. 

Some  of  the  sons  taught  those  of  the  plantation 
negroes  who  cared  to  learn,  but  very  few  were  willing  to 


no.  2]  Aunt  Charity  3 

take  the  trouble  to  study.  Virginius  was  successful  with 
his  scholars.  Five  of  them  learned  to  read  so  well  that 
they  became  preachers.  For  his  salary  as  teacher  he 
got  one  dozen  eggs  a  month,  or  occasionally  a  pullet  at 
the  end  of  two  months.  He  taught  in  the  kitchen 
by  the  light  of  pine  torches.  His  method  of  enforc- 
ing discipline  on  these  middle-aged  men  was  truly 
ludicrous.  His  own  tutor  was  one  of  the  old-fashioned 
sort,  and  did  not  spare  the  rod  in  the  morning ;  so  at 
night  Virginius  belabored  the  backs  of  his  sturdy 
fellows.  His  beatings  were  received  with  shouts  of 
laughter,  the  whole  school  would  be  in  an  uproar,  the 
scholars  dodging  about  to  escape  the  young  peda- 
gogue's stick,  and  the  cook  and  other  on-lookers 
roaring  with  laughter.  One  of  his  graduates  asked 
his  advice  as  to  a  course  of  reading,  suggesting 
history  as  the  branch  that  he  wished  to  pursue. 
The  youthful  teacher  promptly  advised  "Robinson 
Crusoe,"  and  lent  his  own  handsome  copy  to  this 
promising  pupil.  After  reading  one  hundred  pages, 
Joe  came  to  him  and  said,  "  Mars  Virginius,  did  you 
say  dat  book  was  history  ?  "  Virginius  explained  as 
well  as  he  could  what  fiction  was,  on  which  Joe  said, 
"  I  bin  mistrustin'  all  'long  dar  some  o'  de  things 
what  Robinson  Crusoe  say  warn't  true." 


2.  Aunt  Charity  and  the  Speculator 

By  Charity  Bowery  (1844) 

I  am  about  sixty-five  years  old,  and  was  born  near  This  is  the 
Edenton,  North  Carolina.     My  master  was  very  kind  narrative  of  a 
to  his  slaves :  if  an  overseer  whipped  them,  he  was  taken  down ' 


On   the    Plantation 


[No. 


from  her  own 
lips. 


turned  away.  Master  used  to  whip  them  himself 
sometimes,  with  hickory  switches  as  large  as  my  little 
finger.  My  mother  nursed  all  his  children  :  she  was 
reckoned  a  very  good  servant ;  and  our  mistress  made 
it  a  point  to  give  one  of  my  mother's  children  to  each 
of  her  own.  I  fell  to  the  lot  of  Elizabeth,  her  second 
daughter,  and  it  was  my  business  to  wait  upon  her. 


SLAVE  QUARTERS. 


Oh,  my  old  mistress  was  a  kind  woman.  She  was  the 
same  as  a  mother  to  poor  Charity.  If  Charity  wanted 
to  learn  to  spin,  she  let  her  learn ;  if  Charity  wanted 
to  learn  to  knit,  she  let  her  learn  ;  if  Charity  wanted  to 
learn  to  weave,  she  let  her  learn.  I  had  a  wedding 
when  I  was  married ;  and  when  my  dear  good  mis- 
tress died,  she  charged  her  children  never  to  separate 
me  and  my  husband  ;  "  for,"  said  she,  "  if  ever  there 


no.  2]  Aunt  Charity  5 

was  a  match  made  in  heaven,  it  was  Charity  and  her 
husband."  My  husband  was  a  nice  good  man ;  and 
mistress  knew  we  set  stores  by  one  another.  Her 
children  promised  they  never  would  separate  me  from 
my  husband  and  children.  Indeed,  they  used  to  tell 
me  they  would  never  sell  me  at  all ;  and  I  am  sure 
they  meant  what  they  said.  But  my  young  master 
got  into  trouble.  He  used  to  come  home  and  sit 
leaning  his  head  on  his  hand  by  the  hour,  without 
speaking  to  any  body.  I  saw  something  was  the 
matter ;  and  I  begged  him  to  tell  me  what  made  him 
look  so  worried.  He  told  me  he  owed  seventeen  hun- 
dred dollars,  that  he  could  not  pay  ;  and  he  was  afraid 
he  would  have  to  go  to  prison.  I  begged  him  to  sell 
me  and  my  children,  rather  than  to  go  to  jail.  I  saw 
the  tears  come  into  his  eyes.  "  I  don't  know,  Charity," 
said  he  ;  "  I'll  see  what  can  be  done.  One  thing 
you  may  feel  easy  about ;  I  will  never  separate 
you  from  your  husband  and  children,  let  what  will 
come." 

Two  or  three  days  after  he  came  to  me,  and  said ; 
"  Charity,  how  should  you  like  to  be  sold  to  Mr.  Kin- 
more  ? "  I  told  him  I  would  rather  be  sold  to  him 
than  to  any  body  else,  because  my  husband  belonged 
to  him.  Mr.  Kinmore  agreed  to  buy  us  ;  and  so  I  and 
my  children  went  there  to  live.  He  was  a  kind  mas- 
ter ;  but  as  for  mistress  Kinmore,  —  she  was  a  divil ! 
Mr.  Kinmore  died  a  few  years  after  he  bought  us; 
and  in  his  will  he  left  me  and  my  husband  free ;  but 
I  never  knew  anything  about  it,  for  years  afterward. 
I  don't  know  how  they  managed  it.  My  poor  hus- 
band died,  and  never  knew  that  he  was  free.  But  it's 
all  the  same  now.     He's  among  the  ransomed. 

Sixteen  children  I've  had,  first  and  last ;  and  twelve 


6  On   the    Plantation  [No.  2 

I've  nursed  for  my  mistress.  From  the  time  my  first 
baby  was  born,  I  always  set  my  heart  upon  buying 
freedom  for  some  of  my  children.  I  thought  it  was 
of  more  consequence  to  them  than  to  me ;  for  I  was 
old,  and  used  to  being  a  slave.  But  mistress  Kin- 
more  wouldn't  let  me  have  my  children.  One  after 
another  she  sold  'em  away  from  me. 

I  tried  every  way  I  could,  to  lay  up  a  copper  to 
buy  my  children ;  but  I  found  it  pretty  hard  ;  for 
mistress  kept  me  at  work  all  the  time.  It  was 
"  Charity  !  Charity  !  Charity  !  "  from  morning  till 
night.     "  Charity,  do  this,"  and  "  Charity,  do  that." 

I  used  to  do  the  washings  of  the  family ;  and  large 
washings  they  were.  The  public  road  ran  right  by 
my  little  hut ;  and  I  thought  to  myself,  while  I  stood 
there  at  the  wash-tub,  I  might  just  as  well  as  not,  be 
earning  something  to  buy  my  children.  So  I  set  up 
a  little  oyster-board ;  and  when  anybody  came  along, 
that  wanted  a  few  oysters  and  a  cracker,  I  left  my 
wash-tub  and  waited  upon  him.  When  I  got  a  little 
money  laid  up,  I  went  to  my  mistress  and  tried  to 
buy  one  of  my  children.  She  knew  how  long  my 
heart  had  been  set  upon  it,  and  how  hard  I  had  worked 
for  it.  But  she  wouldn't  let  me  have  one  !  So,  I 
went  to  work  again ;  and  sat  up  late  nights,  in  hopes 
I  could  earn  enough  to  tempt  her.  When  I  had  two 
hundred  dollars,  I  went  to  her  again  ;  but  she  thought 
she  could  find  a  better  market,  and  she  wouldn't  let 
me  have  one.  As  last,  what  do  you  think  that  woman 
did  ?  She  sold  me  and  five  of  my  children  to  the 
speculators ! 

Surely,  ma'am,  there's  always  some  good  comes  of 
being  kind  to  folks.  While  I  kept  my  oyster-board, 
there  was  a   thin,  peaked-looking  man,  used  to  come 


No.   2] 


Aunt  Charity 


and  buy  of    me.     Sometimes    he  would  say,   "Aunt  Speculators 

Charity,  (he    always    called  me  Aunt    Charity,)  you  acIS^uch 

must  fix  me  up  a  nice  little  mess,  for  I  feel  poorly   despised  by 

to-day."     I  always  made  something    good  for   him ;   *h(;  ,slave~ 

and  if  he  didn't  happen  to  have  any  change,  I  always 

trusted    him.     He    liked  my  messes  mighty  well.  — 

Now,   who   do    you    think    that   should    turn    out   to 

be,  but  the  very   speculator  that   bought  me !      He 

came  to  me,  and  said  he,  "  Aunt  Charity,  you've  been 

very  good  to  me,  and  fixed  me  up  many  a  nice  little 

mess,  when  I've  been  poorly  ;  and  now  you  shall  have 

your  freedom  for  it,  and  I'll  give  you  your  youngest 

child." 

Well,  after  that  I  concluded  I'd  come  to  the  Free 
States.  But  mistress  had  one  child  of  mine ;  a  boy 
about  twelve  years  old.  I  had  always  set  my  heart 
upon  buying  Richard.  He  was  the  image  of  his 
father  ;  and  my  husband  was  a  nice  good  man ;  and 
we  set  stores  by  one  another.  Besides  I  was  always 
uneasy  in  my  mind  about  Richard.  He  was  a  spirity 
lad ;  and  I  knew  it  was  very  hard  for  him  to  be  a 
slave.  Many  a  time,  I  have  said  to  him,  <*  Richard, 
let  what  will  happen,  never  lift  your  hand  against 
your  master." 

But  I  knew  it  would  always  be  hard  work  for  him 
to  be  a  slave.  I  carried  all  my  money  to  my  mis- 
tress, and  told  her  I  had  more  due  to  me ;  and  if  all 
of  it  wasn't  enough  to  buy  my  poor  boy,  I'd  work 
hard  and  send  her  all  my  earnings  till  she  said  I  had 
paid  enough.  She  knew  she  could  trust  me.  She 
knew  Charity  always  kept  her  word.  But  she  was  a 
hard-hearted  woman.  She  wouldn't  let  me  have  my 
boy.  With  a  heavy  heart,  I  went  to  work  to  earn 
more,  in  hopes  I  might  one  day  be  able  to  buy  him. 


8  On   the   Plantation  [No.  2 

To  be  sure,  I  didn't  get  much  more  time,  than  I  did 
when  I  was  a  slave  ;  for  mistress  was  always  calling 
upon  me  ;  and  I  didn't  like  to  disoblige  her.  I  wanted 
to  keep  the  right  side  of  her,  in  hopes  she'd  let  me 
have  my  boy.  One  day  she  sent  me  of  an  errand. 
I  had  to  wait  some  time.  When  I  come  back,  mis- 
tress was  counting  a  heap  of  bills  in  her  lap.  She 
was  a  rich  woman,  —  she  rolled  in  gold.  My  little 
girl  stood  behind  her  chair  and  as  mistress  counted 
the  money  —  ten  dollars,  —  twenty  dollars,  —  fifty 
dollars,  —  I  saw  that  she  kept  crying.  I  thought  may 
be  mistress  had  struck  her.  But  when  I  see  the  tears 
keep  rolling  down  her  cheeks  all  the  time,  I  went  up 
to  her,  and  whispered,  "  What's  the  matter  ?  "  She 
pointed  to  mistress's  lap  and  said,  "  Broder's  money ! 
Broder's  money!"  Oh,  then  I  understood  it  all!  I 
said  to  mistress  Kinmore,  "  Have  you  sold  my  boy  ?  " 
Without  looking  up  from  counting  her  money  she 
drawled  out,  "Yes,  Charity;  and  I  got  a  great  price 
for  him!  " 

Oh,  my  heart  was  too  full !  She  had  sent  me  away 
of  an  errand,  because  she  didn't  want  to  be  troubled 
with  our  cries.  I  hadn't  any  chance  to  see  my  poor 
boy.  I  shall  never  see  him  again  in  this  world.  My 
heart  felt  as  if  it  was  under  a  great  load  of  lead.  I 
couldn't  speak  my  feelings.  I  never  spoke  them  to 
her,  from  that  day  to  this.  As  I  went  out  of  the  room, 
I  lifted  up  my  hands,  and  all  I  could  say  was,  "  Mis- 
tress, how  could  you  do  it  ?  " 

Here  I  have  taken  in  washing ;  and  my  daughter 
is  smart  at  her  needle  ;  and  we  get  a  very  comfortable 
living. 


No.  3] 


A  Southern  Home 


3.    A  Southern  Planter's  House 

By  Emily  Burke  (1845) 

The  house  which  I  promised  in  my  last  letter  to  Miss  Burke 

describe   stood  upon  four  posts  about  five  feet  from  ^gove^ness 

the  ground,  allowing  a  free  circulation  of  air  beneath,  in  a  weii-to- 

as  well  as  forming  a  fine  covert  for  the  hounds,  goats,  JJoidirT6" 

and   all  the  domestic  fowls.     It  was  only  one  story  family. 


-mm 


A   SOUTHERN    HOME. 


high,  though  much  taller  than  buildings  of  the  same 
description  at  the  North.  It  was  divided  into  four 
rooms  below,  and  two  in  the  roof,  and  was  furnished 
with  two  broad  piazzas,  one  in  front  of  the  building, 
which  is  always  the  gentleman's  sitting  room,  and 
one  on  the  back  of  the  house,  where  the  servants 
await  their  master's  orders.  Houses  are  built  low  on 
account  of  the  high  winds,  for  their  foundations  are 


i  o  On   the    Plantation  [No.  3 

so  frail  that  otherwise  they  would  easily  be  thrown 
down  in  one  of  the  heavy  gales. 

The  building  was  slightly  covered  with  boards, 
arranged  like  clapboards  to  shed  the  rain.  This  was 
the  entire  thickness  of  the  walls ;  there  was  no  ceil- 
ing, lathing,  or  plastering  within.  The  floors  were 
all  single  and  laid  in  so  unworkmanlike  manner  that 
I  could  often  see  the  ground  beneath,  when  the  car- 
pets were  not  on  the  floor  ;  and  they  are  always  taken 
up  in  the  summer,  to  make  the  apartments  cooler. 
The  roof  was  covered  with  long  shingles  nailed  to  the 
timbers,  to  save  the  expense  of  boards  beneath,  with 
the  ends  of  one  tier  just  lapping  upon  the  next,  and 
the  work  was  so  shabby  that  not  only  the  wind, 
but  the  light  and  rain  often  found  free  access  into  the 
upper  rooms,  through  ten  thousand  holes  among  the 
shingles.  Two  chimneys  ornamented  the  outside  of 
the  house,  one  upon  each  end,  built  of  turfs,  sticks, 
blocks  of  wood,  and  occasionally  a  brick,  plastered 
over  with  clay.  The  windows  were  furnished  with 
panes  of  glass,  a  luxury  but  few  enjoy ;  after  all, 
glazed  windows  were  used  more  for  ornament  than 
comfort,  for  in  the  Coldest  weather  they  were  always 
raised,  and  in  stormy  weather  the  piazzas  protected 
the  inner  rooms. 

The  above  is  as  true  a  description  as  I  can  give  of 
the  singular  house  to  which  I  was  conducted  on  my 
arrival  in  the  country.  My  appearance  there  was 
altogether  unexpected  by  the  whole  family,  and  there 
was  much  inquiry  among  the  negroes  and  the  younger 
members  of  the  family,  why  I  was  there,  who  I 
was,  and  whence  the  strange  lady  had  come,  who 
had  so  unexpectedly  dropped  in  among  them.  From 
the  room  in   which    I  sat,   I  could  look  into  all  the 


no.  3]  A  Southern  Home 


1 1 


other  rooms  about  me,  and  I  was  not  a  little  amused 
to  see  many  dark  forms  with  bare  feet  and  noise- 
less steps  flitting  about  from  one  place  to  another, 
to  get  a  peep  at  the  new  comer,  and  to  hear  the 
whisperings  on  all  sides  of  me,  of  which  I  well 
understood  I  was  the  subject.  The  servants  would 
come  to  the  windows  on  the  outside,  and  lift  up  one 
corner  of  the  curtain  to  steal  a  look  at  me,  others 
would  creep  softly  up  the  steps  of  the  piazza  and 
peep  into  the  door.  One  old  wom^n,  less  bashful 
than  the  others,  ventured  into  the  room,  dressed  in 
a  coarse  cotton  gown,  extending  a  little  below  the 
knees,  with  bare  feet,  neck,  and  arms,  and  came 
before  me  and  made  a  low  courtesy,  accompanied  by 
the  formal  salutation,  "  how  de  Misse ; "  she  then  sat 
down  on  the  floor  at  a  little  distance  from  me,  and  in 
a  very  respectful  manner  entered  into  conversation. 
She  was  one  of  the  oldest  women  on  the  plantation, 
and  though  one  of  the  field  hands,  she  had  free  access 
to  her  master's  house,  and  she  possessed  such  a  good 
share  of  common  sense  that  her  master  and  mistress 
always  consulted  her  on  important  matters,  and  she 
was  looked  up  to  and  reverenced  by  the  whole  family 
as  a  sort  of  mother. 

All  this  time  I  was  eagerly  watching  to  see  if  there 
were  any  preparations  going  on  preliminary  to  a 
supper,  but  as  I  could  discover  none,  and  it  was  then 
near  nine  o'clock,  I  had  just  summoned  all  my  forti- 
tude to  meet  my  hungry  fate  with  the  most  becoming 
resignation,  when  a  robust  young  woman  came  up 
the  steps  of  the  back  piazza  into  the  room  where  I 
was,  and  brought  out  two  or  three  large  tables,  which 
reached  nearly  from  one  side  of  the  room  to  the 
other,  and  began  to  lay  them  for  supper.     Presently 


i  2  On   the   Plantation  [No.  3 

another  young  woman  came  from  the  same  quarter, 
bringing  the  eatables.  When  all  these  preparations 
were  complete,  the  tea-bell  was  rung  from  the  piazza. 
To  my  great  surprise,  for  I  had  seen  only  two  or  three 
white  persons,  a  family  of  twenty  or  twenty-five  per- 
sons, consisting  partly  of  transient  members  and 
visitors  gathered  round  the  table ;  where  they  all 
came  from,  was  a  mystery  to  me. 

Soon  after  tea  I  was  conducted  to  one  of  the  cham- 
bers in  the  roof,  the  room  I  was  to  occupy  while  a 
resident  in  the  family.  My  first  impressions  concern- 
ing my  future  comfort  were  very  unfavorable ;  yet  I 
soon  learned  that  my  accommodations  for  that  place 
were  unusually  good,  and  when  I  had  a  view  of  the 
surrounding  scenery  from  my  windows,  it  was  in  one 
of  the  most  delightful  situations  ;  but  the  darkness  of 
evening  when  I  first  entered  my  room  shut  out  from 
my  view  every  object  but  the  rough  walls  around  me, 
and  my  forebodings  could  not  be  thought  strange. 
Though  the  house  was  of  but  one  story,  it  was  so 
built  that  I  had  three  windows  in  my  chamber,  all 
closed  with  heavy  board  shutters.  The  floor  was 
smooth  and  white,  and  the  walls  ceiled  to  the 
windows,  the  remainder  being  rough  boards.  Over- 
head there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  the  unfinished 
timbers  and  shingles  warped  into  queer  shapes.  My 
bed  had  very  high  posts,  and  was  covered  with  a 
spread  so  small  that  it  gave  the  bed  the  appearance 
of  standing  on  stilts. 

When  I  was  nicely  tucked  in  beneath  the  quilts 
and  coverlets  and  had  extinguished  my  light,  I  was 
utterly  thrown  into  the  horrors,  to  find  no  close  warm 
shelter  for  my  head ;  being  raised  in  a  land  where 
every  one  is  taught  to  be  afraid  of  the  least  crevice 


no.  4]  The  Kidnapper  1 3 

that  will  admit  the  cold  air,  I  could  not  shut  my  eyes 
to  sleep  for  perfect  terror  at  those  thousands  of  holes 
in  the  roof,  through  which  the  light  of  the  moon  was 
staring  in  upon  me ;  they  seemed  to  me,  through  the 
greater  part  of  that  night,  to  be  so  many  cold  and 
freezing  eyes  trying  to  look  me  out  of  countenance. 
In  the  morning  when  I  threw  open  my  blinds,  and 
took  a  view  of  the  surrounding  scenery,  I  began  to 
feel  much  more  reconciled  to  my  situation.  At  the 
south-east  the  ever-rolling  Atlantic  stretched  itself 
out  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  and  where  the  sky 
and  water  seemed  to  meet,  now  and  then  a  sloop 
would  lose  itself  to  the  sight,  or  a  little  white  speck 
would  appear  which  would  grow  larger  and  larger  till 
a  ship  under  full  sail  would  ride  majestically  over 
the  mighty  waves.  On  all  other  sides  of  the  plan- 
tation the  dark  green  forest  of  the  long  leafed  pines 
completely  hemmed  us  in,  separating  us  from  all 
other  plantations  and  leaving  us  a  little  world  by 
ourselves. 


4.    The  Kidnapper 

By  Mrs.  Kate  Pickard  (1848) 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  a  pleasant  summer  day,  The  capture 

two  little  boys  were  playing  before  the  door  of  their  fnd  sale  of 

;       J      °  1  -i  .  iree  negroes, 

mother  s  cottage.     They  were  apparently  about  six  commonly 

or   eight  years    old,  and  though  their  faces  wore  a  called  kid" 

dusky  hue,  their  hearts  were  gay,  and   their   laugh  contrary  to^ 

rang  out  clear  and  free.     Their   dress   was   coarse,  law  and  to 

and  in  no  wise  restrained  the  motions  of  their  agile  of^os"siale- 

limbs,  for  it  consisted  merely  of  a  cotton  shirt,  reach-  holders. 


1 4  On   the   Plantation  [No.  4 

ing  no  lower  than  the  knee.  How  they  ran  races 
down  the  road,  and  turned  summersets  on  the  green 
grass !  How  their  eyes  danced  with  merriment,  and 
their  white  teeth  glistened  in  the  pleasant  light ! 

But  as  the  day  wore  on  they  grew  weary,  and  with 
childhood's  first  impulse,  sought  their  mother.  She 
was  not  in  the  house.  All  there  was  still  and  lonely. 
In  one  corner  stood  her  bed,  covered  with  a  clean 
blanket,  and  the  baby's  cradle  was  empty  by  its  side. 
Grandmother's  bed,  in  another  corner  of  the  room, 
was  made  up  nicely,  and  every  article  of  the  simple 
furniture  was  in  its  accustomed  place.  Where  could 
they  all  have  gone  ? 

"  I  reckon,"  said  Levin,  "  mammy's  gone  to  church. 
The  preachin'  must  be  mighty  long!  O!  I's  so 
hongry !  I's  gwine  to  meetin'  to  see  if  she's 
thar." 

The  "  church"  stood  in  the  woods,  about  a  mile  off. 
It  was  an  old  white  building  that  had  formerly  been 
occupied  by  a  family,  who  now  lived  in  a  large  brick 
house  close  by.  The  boys  had  often  been  at  the 
church  with  their  father,  who  kept  the  key  of  the 
building,  and  opened  it  for  worship  on  Sundays,  and 
prayer-meeting  nights. 

"  You  better  not  go  thar,  I  reckon,"  replied  Peter, 
the  younger  of  the  two  boys,  "  Mammy'll  whip  you 
well  if  you  goes  to  foller  her  to  meetin,)  and  all 
about." 

"  Mammy  !   O  Mammy  !  " 

Thus  they  called  their  mother,  and  cried  because 
she  did  not  answer,  till  their  eyes  were  swollen,  and 
their  pleasant  play  forgotten. 

Soon  the  sound  of  wheels  diverted  them  for  a  mo- 
ment from  their  childish  grief,  and  looking  up  the 


no.  4]  The    Kidnapper  1 5 

road,  they  saw  a  handsome  gig  approaching.  Its 
only  occupant  was  a  tall  dark  man,  with  black  and 
glossy  hair,  w^iich  fell  heavily  below  his  white  hat. 
He  looked  earnestly  at  the  little  boys  as  he  ap- 
proached, and  marking  their  evident  distress,  he 
checked  his  horse,  and  kindly  asked  the  cause  of 
their  sorrow. 

"  Oh  !  Mammy's  done  gone  off,  and  there's  nobody 
to  give  us  our  supper,  and  we're  so  hongry." 

"  Where  is  your  mother  ?  " 

"Don't  know,  sir,"  replied  Levin,  "but  I  reckon 
she's  gone  to  church." 

"  Well,  don't  you  want  to  ride  ?  Jump  up  here 
with  me,  and  I'll  take  you  to  your  mother.  I'm  just 
going  to  church.  Come  !  quick  !  What !  no  clothes 
but  a  shirt?  Go  in  and  get  a  blanket.  It  will  be 
night  soon,  and  you  will  be  cold." 

Away  they  both  ran  for  a  blanket.  Levin  seized 
one  from  his  mother's  bed,  and  in  his  haste  pushed 
the  door  against  his  brother,  who  was  robbing  his 
grandmother's  couch  of  its  covering.  The  blanket 
was  large,  and  little  Peter,  crying  all  the  while,  was 
repeatedly  tripped  by  its  falling  under  his  feet  while 
he  was  running  to  the  gig. 

The  stranger  lifted  them  up,  and  placing  them 
between  his  feet,  covered  them  carefully  with  the 
blankets,  that  they  might  not  be  cold.  He  spoke 
kindly  to  them,  meanwhile,  still  assuring  them  that 
he  would  soon  take  them  to  their  mother.  Away  they 
went  very  swiftly,  rejoicing  in  their  childish  hearts  to 
think  how  their  mother  would  wonder  when  she  should 
see  them  coming. 

After  riding  for  some  time,  —  how  long  they  could 
not  guess  —  they  suddenly  upset  in  the  water  with  a 


1 6  On   the   Plantation  [No.  4 

great  splash.  The  strange  man  had,  in  his  haste, 
driven  too  near  the  bank  of  the  river,  and  the  slight 
vehicle  had  thus  been  overturned.  He  soon  rescued 
the  children  from  the  water.  They  were  much 
frightened,  but  nothing  was  injured  by  the  accident, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  they  were  once  more  covered 
with  the  blankets,  and  flying  along  the  river  bank 
faster  even  than  before. 

When  the  gig  stopped  again,  the  sun  was  just  set- 
ting. They  were  at  the  water  side,  and  before  them 
lay  many  boats,  and  vessels  of  different  kinds.  They 
had  never  seen  anything  like  these  before,  but  they 
had  short  time  to  gratify  their  childish  curiosity  ;  for 
they  were  hurried  on  board  a  boat,  which  left  the 
shore  immediately 

With  the  assurance  that  they  should  now  find  their 
mother,  they  trusted  implicitly  in  their  new-made 
friend ;  who  strengthened  their  confidence  in  himself 
by  gentle  words  and  timely  gifts.  Cakes  of  marvel- 
lous sweetness  were  ever  ready  for  them,  if  they  grew 
impatient  of  the  length  of  the  journey ;  and  their 
childish  hearts  could  know  no  distrust  of  one  whose 
words  and  acts  were  kind. 

How  long  they  were  on  the  boat  they  did  not  know  ; 
nor  by  what  other  means  they  travelled  could  they 
afterwards  remember,  until  they  reached  Versailles, 
Kentucky.  Here  their  self-constituted  guardian, 
whom  they  now  heard  addressed  as  Kincaid,  placed 
them  in  a  wagon  with  a  colored  woman  and  her 
child,  and  conveyed  them  to  Lexington.  This  was 
the  first  town  they  had  ever  seen,  and  as  they  were 
conducted  up  Main  street,  they  were  filled  with 
wonder  and  admiration. 

Kincaid  took  them  to  a  plain  brick  house  where 


no.  4]  The    Kidnapper  1 7 

dwelt  one  John  Fisher,  a  mason  by  trade,  and  pro- 
prietor of  a  large  brick  yard. 

After  some  conversation  between  the  gentlemen, 
which  of  course  the  children  did  not  understand,  they 
were  taken  out  to  the  kitchen,  and  presented  to  Aunt 
Betty,  the  cook. 

" There,  my  boys,"  said  Kincaid,  "there  is  your 
mother  —  we've  found  her  at  last." 

"  No !  no  !  "  they  shrieked,  "  that's  not  our  mother  ! 
O,  please,  sir!  take  us  back  !  "  With  tears  and  cries 
they  clung  to  him  who  had  abused  their  guileless 
trust,  and  begged  him  not  to  leave  them  there. 

This  scene  was  soon  ended  by  John  Fisher  himself, 
who,  with  a  hearty  blow  on  each  cheek,  bade  them 
"  hush  !  "  "  You  belong  to  me  now,  you  little  rascals, 
and  I'll  have  no  more  of  this.  There's  Aunt  Betty, 
she's  your  mammy  now;  and  if  you  behave  your- 
selves, she'll  be  good  to  you." 

Kincaid  soon  departed,  and  they  never  saw  him 
again.  They  learned,  however,  from  a  white  appren- 
tice, who  lived  in  the  house,  that  he  received  from 
Mr.  Fisher  one  hundred  and  fifty-five  dollars  for 
Levin,  and  one  hundred   and  fifty  for  Peter. 

For  the  first  few  weeks  the  children  talked  con- 
stantly of  going  back  to  their  mother  —  except  when 
their  master  was  near.  They  soon  learned  that  they 
must  not  mention  the  subject  in  his  presence.  He 
was,  in  the  main,  a  kind,  indulgent  man  —  but  were 
they  not  his  money  ?  Why  should  he  allow  them  to 
prate  about  being  stolen,  when  he  had  bought  them, 
and  paid  a  right  good  price  ? 

"Father,"  said  John  Fisher,  junior,  "isn't  Phila- 
delphia in  a  free  State  ?  " 

"Certainly  —  it  is  in  Pennsylvania." 


i  8  On   the    Plantation  [No.  4 

"  Well,  then,  I  reckon  those  two  boys  you  bought 
were  stolen,  for  they  lived  with  their  mother  near  the 
Delaware  river ;  and  Aunt  Betty  says  that  is  at  Phila- 
delphia. It  was  too  bad,  father,  for  that  man  to  steal 
them  and  sell  them  here,  where  they  can  never  hear 
from  their  mother!  " 

"Pooh,  boy!  don't  talk  like  a  fool!  Most  likely 
they  were  sold  to  Kincaid,  and  he  told  them  he  would 
take  them  to  their  mother,  in  order  to  get  them  away 
without  any  fuss.  And  even  if  he  did  steal  them  — 
so  were  all  the  negroes  stolen  at  first.  I  bought  these 
boys,  and  paid  for  them,  and  I'll  stop  their  talk  about 
being  free,  or  I'll  break  their  black  necks.  A  pretty 
tale  that,  to  go  about  the  country  —  just  to  spoil  the 
sale  if  I  should  happen  to  wish  to  get  rid  of  them  ! 
Free,  indeed !  And  what  is  a  free  nigger  ?  They're 
better  off  here  than  if  they  were  free,  growing  up  in 
idleness,  and  with  nobody  to  take  care  of  them." 

Before  night  the  young  offenders  were  thoroughly 
kicked  and  beaten,  and  received  the  assurance  that 
they  should  be  killed  outright  if  they  dared  to  tell 
such  a  tale  again.  So  they  grew  cautious  ;  and  spoke 
those  sweet  memories  of  home  and  mother  only  in 
whispers  to  each  other,  or  to  some  fellow-slave  who 
knew  how  to  sympathize  with  their  sorrows. 


5.    Topsy's   Arrival 

By  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  (1852) 

This  is  an  ex-       One   morning,   while    Miss    Ophelia  was  busy   in 
tract  from       some   of    her  domestic   cares,  St.  Clare's  voice  was 

Uncle  Tom  s  . 

CaW«anovei  heard,  calling  her  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 


many  ways 
gives  a  good 


no.  5]  Topsy' s   Arrival  1 9 

"  Come  down  here,  cousin  ;  I've  something  to  show  which 
you." 

"  What  is  it?"  said  Miss  Ophelia,  coming  down,   picture  of 
with  her  sewing  in  her  hand.  slavery, 

"I've  made  a  purchase  for  your  department,  —  see  terTbya™" 
here,"  said  St.  Clare;  and,  with  the  word,  he  pulled   Northern 
along  a  little  negro  girl,  about  eight  or  nine  years  woman- 
of  age. 

She  was  one  of  the  blackest  of  her  race ;  and  her 
round,  shining  eyes,  glittering  as  glass  beads,  moved 
with  quick  and  restless  glances  over  everything  in 
the  room.  Her  mouth,  half  open*with  astonishment 
at  the  wonders  of  the  new  Mas'r's  parlor,  displayed 
a  white  and  brilliant  set  of  teeth.  Her  woolly  hair 
was  braided  in  sundry  little  tails,  which  stuck  out  in 
every  direction.  The  expression  of  her  face  was  an 
odd  mixture  of  shrewdness  and  cunning,  over  which 
was  oddly  drawn,  like  a  kind  of  veil,  an  expression 
of  the  most  doleful  gravity  and  solemnity.  She  was 
dressed  in  a  single  filthy,  ragged  garment,  made  of 
bagging ;  and  stood  with  her  hands  demurely  folded 
before  her.  Altogether,  there  was  something  odd 
and  goblin-like  about  her  appearance,  —  something, 
as  Miss  Ophelia  afterwards  said,  "  so  heathenish,"  as 
to  inspire  that  good  lady  with  utter  dismay ;  and, 
turning  to  St.  Clare,  she  said,  — 

"  Augustine,  what  in  the  world  have  you  brought 
that  thing  here  for  ?  " 

"  For  you  to  educate,  to  be  sure,  and  train  in  the 
way  she  should  go.  I  thought  she  was  rather  a 
funny  specimen  in  the  Jim  Crow  line.  Here,  Topsy," 
he  added,  giving  a  whistle,  as  a  man  would  to  call 
the  attention  of  a  dog,  "  give  us  a  song,  now,  and 
show  us  some  of  your  dancing." 


2  o  On   the    Plantation  [No.  5 

The  black,  glassy  eyes  glittered  with  a  kind  of 
wicked  drollery,  and  the  thing  struck  up,  in  a  clear 
shrill  voice,  an  odd  negro  melody,  to  which  she  kept 
time  with  her  hands  and  feet,  spinning  round,  clap- 
ping her  hands,  knocking  her  knees  together,  in  a 
wild,  fantastic  sort  of  time,  and  producing  in  her 
throat  all  those  odd  gutteral  sounds  which  distinguish 
the  native  music  of  her  race  ;  and  finally,  turning  a 
somerset  or  two,  and  giving  a  prolonged  closing  note, 
as  odd  and  unearthly  as  that  of  a  steam-whistle,  she 
came  suddenly  down  on  the  carpet,  and  stood  with 
her  hands  folded,*and  a  most  sanctimonious  expres- 
sion of  meekness  and  solemnity  over  her  face,  only 
broken  by  the  cunning  glances  which  she  shot 
askance  from  the  corners  of  her  eyes. 

Miss  Ophelia  stood  silent,  perfectly  paralyzed  with 
amazement. 

St.  Clare,  like  a  mischievous  fellow  as  he  was,  ap- 
peared to  enjoy  her  astonishment;  and,  addressing 
the  child  again,  said,  — 

"  Topsy,  this  is  your  new  mistress.  I'm  going  to 
give  you  up  to  her;  see,  now,  that  you  behave  your- 
self." 

"  Yes,  Mas'r,"  said  Topsy,  with  sanctimonious 
gravity,  her  wicked  eyes  twinkling  as  she  spoke. 

"  You're  going  to  be  good,  Topsy,  you  understand," 
said  St.  Clare. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Mas'r,"  said  Topsy,  with  another  twinkle, 
her  hands  still  devoutly  folded. 

"  Now,  Augustine,  what  upon  earth  is  this  for  ? " 
said  Miss  Ophelia.  "  Your  house  is  so  full  of  these 
little  plagues,  now,  that  a  body  can't  set  down  their 
foot  without  treading  on  'em.  I  get  up  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  find  one  asleep  behind  the  door,  and  see  one 


no.  5]  Topsys  Arrival  2  1 

black  head  poking  out  from  under  the  table,  one  lying 
on  the  door-mat,  —  and  they  are  mopping  and  mow- 
ing and  grinning  between  all  the  railings,  and  tum- 
bling over  the  kitchen  floor !  What  on  earth  did  you 
want  to  bring  this  one  for?" 

"For  you  to  educate,  —  didn't  I  tell  you?  You're 
always  preaching  about  educating.  I  thought  I  would 
make  you  a  present  of  a  fresh-caught  specimen,  and 
let  you  try  your  hand  on  her,  and  bring  her  up  in  the 
way  she  should  go." 

"Well,  I'll  do  what  I  can,"  said  Miss  Ophelia;  and 
she  approached  her  new  subject  very  much  as  a  person 
might  be  supposed  to  approach  a  black  spider,  sup- 
posing them  to  have  benevolent  designs  toward  it. 

"  She's  dreadfully  dirty,  and  half  naked,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  take  her  downstairs,  and  make  some  of 
them  clean  and  clothe  her  up." 

Miss  Ophelia  carried   her  to  the  kitchen  regions. 

When  arrayed  at  last  in  a  suit  of  decent  and  whole 
clothing,  her  hair  cropped  short  to  her  head,  Miss 
Ophelia,  with  some  satisfaction,  said  she  looked  more 
Christian-like  than  she  did,  and  in  her  own  mind 
began  to  mature  some  plans  for  her  instruction. 

Sitting  down  before  her,  she  began  to  question  her. 

"  How  old  are  you,  Topsy  ?  " 

"  Dunno,  Missis,"  said  the  image,  with  a  grin  that 
showed  all  her  teeth. 

"  Don't  know  how  old  you  are  ?  Didn't  anybody 
ever  tell  you  ?     Who  was  your  mother  ?  " 

"  Never  had  none !  "  said  the  child,  with  another 
grin,  that  looked  so  goblin-like,  that,  if  Miss  Ophelia 
had  been  at  all  nervous,  she  might  have  fancied  that 
she  had  got  hold  of  some  sooty  gnome  from  the  land 
of  Diablerie ;  but  Miss  Ophelia  was  not  nervous,  but 


22  On   the   Plantation  [No.  5 

plain  and  business-like,  and  she  said,  with  some 
sternness,  — 

"  You  mustn't  answer  me  in  that  way,  child ;  I'm 
not  playing  with  you.  Tell  me  where  you  were  born, 
and  who  your  father  and  mother  were." 

"  Never  was  born,"  reiterated  the  creature,  more 
emphatically ;  "  never  had  no  father  nor  mother, 
nor  nothin'.  I  was  raised  by  a  speculator,  with 
lots  of  others.  Old  Aunt  Sue  used  to  take  car' 
on  us." 

"  How  long  have  you  lived  with  your  master  and 
mistress  ?  " 

"  Dunno,  Missis." 

"  Is  it  a  year,  or  more,  or  less  ?  " 

"  Dunno,  Missis." 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  anything  about  God, 
Topsy  ? " 

The  child  looked  bewildered,  but  grinned  as  usual. 

"  Do  you  know  who  made  you  ?  " 

"  Nobody,  as  I  knows  on,"  said  the  child,  with  a 
short  laugh. 

The  idea  appeared  to  amuse  her  considerably ;  for 
her  eyes  twinkled,  and  she  added,  — 

"  I  spect  I  grow'd.  Don't  think  nobody  never 
made  me." 

"  Do  you  know  how  to  sew  ? "  said  Miss  Ophelia, 
who  thought  she  would  turn  her  inquiries  to  some- 
thing more  tangible. 

"  No,  Missis." 

"  What  can  you  do  ?  —  what  did  you  do  for  your 
master  and  mistress  ?  " 

"  Fetch  water,  and  wash  dishes,  and  rub  knives, 
and  wait  on  folks." 

"Were  they  good  to  you?" 


no.  6]  Topsy  s   Education  2  3 

"  Spect  they  was,"  said  the  child,  scanning  Miss 
Ophelia  cunningly. 

Miss  Ophelia  rose  from  this  encouraging  colloquy ; 
St.  Clare  was  leaning  over  the  back  of  her  chair. 

"  You  find  virgin  soil  there,  cousin ;  put  in  your 
own  ideas,  —  you  won't  find  many  to  pull  up." 


6.    Topsy's    Education 

By  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  (1852) 

Miss  Ophelia's  ideas  of  education,  like  all  her 
other  ideas,  were  very  set  and  definite,  and  of  ,the 
kind  that  prevailed  in  New  England  a  century  ago, 
and  which  are  still  preserved  in  some  very  retired 
and  unsophisticated  parts,  where  there  are  no  rail- 
roads. As  nearly  as  could  be  expressed,  they  could 
be  comprised  in  very  few  words  :  to  teach  them  to 
mind  when  they  were  spoken  to  ;  to  teach  them  the 
catechism,  sewing,  and  reading ;  and  to  whip  them  if 
they  told  lies.  And  though,  of  course,  in  the  flood 
of  light  that  is  now  poured  on  education,  these  are 
left  far  away  in  the  rear,  yet  it  is  an  undisputed  fact 
that  our  grandmothers  raised  some  tolerably  fair  men 
and  women  under  this  regime,  as  many  of  us  can 
remember  and  testify.  At  all  events,  Miss  Ophelia 
knew  of  nothing  else  to  do ;  and,  therefore,  applied 
her  mind  to  her  heathen  with  the  best  diligence  she 
could  command. 

The  child  was  announced  and  considered  in  the 
family  as  Miss  Ophelia's  girl ;  and,  as  she  was  looked 
upon   with    no   gracious   eye   in   the    kitchen,    Miss 


24  On   the   Plantation  [No.  e 

Ophelia  resolved  to  confine  her  sphere  of  operation 
and  instruction  chiefly  to  her  own  chamber.  With  a 
self-sacrifice  which  some  of  our  readers  will  appre- 
ciate, she  ,  resolved,  instead  of  comfortably  making 
her  own  bed,  sweeping  and  dusting  her  own  chamber, 
—  which  she  had  hitherto  done,  in  utter  scorn  of  all 
offers  of  help  from  the  chambermaid  of  the  establish- 
ment, —  to  condemn  herself  to  the  martyrdom  of 
instructing  Topsy  to  perform  these  operations. 

Miss  Ophelia  began  with  Topsy  by  taking  her  into 
her  chamber,  the  first  morning,  and  solemnly  com- 
mencing a  course  of  instruction  in  the  art  and  mys- 
tery of  bed-making. 

Behold,  then,  Topsy,  washed  and  shorn  of  all  the 
little  braided  tails  wherein  her  heart  had  delighted, 
arrayed  in  a  clean  gown,  with  well-starched  apron, 
standing  reverently  before  Miss  Ophelia,  with  an 
expression  of  solemnity  well  befitting  a  funeral. 

"  Now,  Topsy,  I'm  going  to  show  you  just  how  my 
bed  is  to  be  made.  I  am  very  particular  about  my 
bed.     You  must  learn  exactly  how  to  do  it." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  says  Topsy,  with  a  deep  sigh,  and 
a  face  of  woeful  earnestness. 

"  Now,  Topsy,  look  here ;  — this  is  the  hem  of  the 
sheet,  —  this  is  the  right  side  of  the  sheet,  and  this  is 
the  wrong  ;  — will  you  remember  ?  " 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  says  Topsy,  with  another  sigh. 

"Well,  now,  the  under  sheet  you  must  bring  over 
the  bolster,  —  so,  —  and  tuck  it  clear  down  under  the 
mattress  nice  and  smooth,  —  so,  —  do  you  see  ?  " 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Topsy,  with  profound  atten- 
tion. 

"  But  the  upper  sheet,"  said  Miss  Ophelia,  "  must 
be  brought  down  in  this  way,  and  tucked  under  firm 


no.  6]  Topsy  s   Education  2  5 

and  smooth  at  the  foot,  —  so,  —  the  narrow  hem  at 
the  foot." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Topsy,  as  before ;  but  we  will 
add,  what  Miss  Ophelia  did  not  see,  that,  during  the 
time  when  the  good  lady's  back  was  turned,  in  the 
zeal  of  her  manipulations,  the  young  disciple  had 
contrived  to  snatch  a  pair  of  gloves  and  a  ribbon, 
which  she  had  adroitly  slipped  into  her  sleeves,  and 
stood  with  her  hands  dutifully  folded,  as  before. 

"  Now,  Topsy,  let's  see  you  do  this,"  said  Miss 
Ophelia,  pulling  off  the  clothes,  and  seating  herself. 

Topsy,  with  great  gravity  and  adroitness,  went 
through  the  exercise  completely  to  Miss  Ophelia's 
satisfaction ;  smoothing  the  sheets,  patting  out  every 
wrinkle,  and  exhibiting,  through  the  whole  process,  a 
gravity  and  seriousness  with  which  her  instructress 
was  greatly  edified.  By  an  unlucky  slip,  however,  a 
fluttering  fragment  of  the  ribbon  hung  out  of  one  of 
her  sleeves,  just  as  she  was  finishing,  and  caught  Miss 
Ophelia's  attention.  Instantly  she  pounced  upon  it. 
"  What's  this  ?  You  naughty,  wicked  child,  —  you've 
been  stealing  this  !  " 

The  ribbon  was  pulled  out  of  Topsy's  own  sleeve, 
yet  was  she  not  in  the  least  disconcerted  ;  she  only 
looked  at  it  with  an  air  of  the  most  surprised  and 
unconscious  innocence. 

"  Laws  !  why,  that  ar's  Miss  Feely's  ribbon,  an't  it  ? 
How  could  it  'a'  got  caught  in  my  sleeve  ? " 

"  Topsy,  you  naughty  girl,  don't  you  tell  me  a  lie, 
—  you  stole  that  ribbon  !  " 

"Missis,  I  declar  for  't,  I  didn't;  —  never  seed  it 
till  dis  yer  blessed  minnit." 

" Topsy,"  said  Miss  Ophelia,  "don't  you  know  it's 
wicked  to  tell  lies  ?  " 


2  6  On   the    Plantation  [No.  e 

"  I  never  tells  no  lies,  Miss  Feely,"  said  Topsy, 
with  virtuous  gravity;  "it's  jist  the  truth  I've  been 
a-tellin'  now,  and  an't  nothin'  else." 

"  Topsy,  I  shall  have  to  whip  you,  if  you  tell  lies  so." 

"  Laws,  Missis,  if  you's  to  whip  all  day,  couldn't 
say  no  other  way,"  said  Topsy,  beginning  to  blub- 
ber. "  I  never  seed  dat  ar,  —  it  must  'a'  got  caught 
in  my  sleeve.  Miss  Feely  must  have  left  it  on  the 
bed,  and  it  got  caught  in  the  clothes,  and  so  got  in 
my  sleeve." 

Miss  Ophelia  was  so  indignant  at  the  barefaced  lie, 
that  she  caught  the  child,  and  shook  her. 

"  Don't  you  tell  me  that  again  !  " 

The  shake  brought  the  gloves  on  the  floor,  from 
the  other  sleeve. 

"  There,  you  !  "  said  Miss  Ophelia,  "  will  you  tell 
me  now,  you  didn't  steal  the  ribbon  ? " 

Topsy  now  confessed  to  the  gloves,  but  still  per- 
sisted in  denying  the  ribbon. 

"Now,  Topsy,"  said  Miss  Ophelia,  "if  you'll  con- 
fess all  about  it,  I  won't  whip  you  this  time." 

Thus  adjured,  Topsy  confessed  to  the  ribbon  and 
gloves,  with  woeful  protestations  of  penitence. 

"  Well  now,  tell  me.  I  know  you  must  have  taken 
other  things  since  you  have  been  in  the  house,  for  I 
let  you  run  about  all  day  yesterday.  Now,  tell  me  if 
you  took  anything,  and  I  shan't  whip  you." 

"  Laws,  Missis !  I  took  Miss  Eva's  red  thing  she 
wars  on  her  neck." 

"You  did,  you  naughty  child!  —  Well,  what 
else  ? " 

"  I  took  Rosa's  yer-rings, — them  red  ones." 

"  Go  bring  them  to  me  this  minute,  both  of  'em." 

"  Laws,  Missis  !  I  can't,  —  they's  burnt  up  !  " 


no.  6]  Topsy  s   Education  2  7 

"  Burnt  up  !  —  what  a  story  !  Go  get  'em,  or  I'll 
whip  you." 

Topsy,  with  loud  protestations,  and  tears,  and 
groans,  declared  that  she  could  not.  "  They's  burnt 
up,  —  they  was." 

"What  did  you  burn  'em  up  for?"  said  Miss 
Ophelia. 

"'Cause  I's  wicked,  —  I  is.  I's  mighty  wicked, 
anyhow.     I  can't  help  it." 

Just  at  this  moment,  Eva  came  innocently  into  the 
room,  with  the  identical  coral  necklace  on  her  neck. 

"  Why,  Eva,  where  did  you  get  your  necklace  ? " 
said  Miss  Ophelia. 

"  Get  it  ?     Why,  I've  had  it  on  all  day,"  said  Eva. 

"  Did  you  have  it  on  yesterday  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  what  is  funny,  aunty,  I  had  it  on  all 
night.     I  forgot  to  take  it  off  when  I  went  to  bed." 

Miss  Ophelia  looked  perfectly  bewildered ;  the 
more  so,  as  Rosa,  at  that  instant,  came  into  the  room, 
with  a  basket  of  newly  ironed  linen  poised  on  her 
head,  and  the  coral  ear-drops  shaking  in  her  ears ! 

"  I'm  sure  I  can't  tell  anything  what  to  do  with 
such  a  child !  "  she  said,  in  despair.  "  What  in  the 
world  did  you  tell  me  you  took  those  things  for, 
Topsy  ? " 

"  Why,  Missis  said  I  must  'fess ;  and  I  couldn't 
think  of  nothin'  else  to  'fess,"  said  Topsy,  rubbing 
her  eyes. 

"  But,  of  course,  I  didn't  want  you  to  confess  things 
you  didn't  do,"  said  Miss  Ophelia ;  "  that's  telling  a 
lie,  just  as  much  as  the  other." 

"Laws,  now,  is  it?"  said  Topsy,  with  an  air  of 
innocent  wonder. 

Eva  stood  looking  at  Topsy. 


28  On   the   Plantation  [No.6 

There  stood  the  two  children,  representatives  of 
the  two  extremes  of  society.  The  fair,  high-bred 
child,  with  her  golden  head,  her  deep  eyes,  her 
spiritual,  noble  brow,  and  prince-like  movements ; 
and  her  black,  keen,  subtle,  cringing,  yet  acute 
neighbor.  They  stood  the  representatives  of  their 
races.  The  Saxon,  born  of  ages  of  cultivation,  com- 
mand, education,  physical  and  moral  eminence ;  the 
Afric,  born  of  ages  of  oppression,  submission,  igno- 
rance, toil,  and  vice ! 

Something,  perhaps,  of  such  thoughts  struggled 
through  Eva's  mind.  But  a  child's  thoughts  are 
rather  dim,  undefined  instincts ;  and  in  Eva's  noble 
nature  many  such  were  yearning  and  working,  for 
which  she  had  no  power  of  utterance.  When  Miss 
Ophelia  expatiated  on  Topsy's  naughty,  wicked  con- 
duct, the  child  looked  perplexed  and  sorrowful,  but 
said,  sweetly,  — 

"  Poor  Topsy,  why  need  you  steal  ?  You're  going 
to  be  taken  good  care  of,  now.  I'm  sure  I'd  rather 
give  you  anything  of  mine,  than  have  you  steal  it." 

It  was  the  first  word  of  kindness  the  child  had  ever 
heard  in  her  life ;  and  the  sweet  tone  and  manner 
struck  strangely  on  the  wild,  rude  heart,  and  a  sparkle 
of  something  like  a  tear  shone  in  the  keen,  round, 
glittering  eye  ;  but  it  was  followed  by  the  short  laugh 
and  habitual  grin.  No  !  the  ear  that  has  never  heard 
anything  but  abuse  is  strangely  incredulous  of  any- 
thing so  heavenly  as  kindness ;  and  Topsy  only 
thought  Eva's  speech  something  funny  and  inexpli- 
cable, —  she  did  not  believe  it. 


No.  7] 


Buying  Peter 


29 


7.    How  Friedman  bought  Peter 

By  Mrs.  Kate  Pickard  (1848) 

Peter  commenced  the.  year  with  high  hopes.  His 
last  year's  gains  had  greatly  encouraged  him,  for  he 
had  laid  up,  besides  expending  over  thirty  dollars 
for  his  family,  one  hundred  and  five  dollars ;  which 
made  two  hundred  and  ten  dollars  now  in  his 
possession. 

The  hope  of  being  free  he  had  thus  far  communi- 
cated to  none  but  his  true-hearted  wife  ;  but  now,  as 
he  had  become  satisfied  that  Mr.  Friedman  was  his 
friend,  he  determined  to  seek  his  co-operation  in  his 
plan.  This  resolution  was  not  formed  without  the 
most  careful  consideration ;  and  yet,  when  he  ap- 
proached the  counting-room  for  the  purpose  of  open- 
ing his  cherished  plans,  his  heart  throbbed  painfully, 
and  his  knees  trembled  so  that  he  could  scarcely 
walk. 

"Mr.  Friedman,"  said  he,  "I've  got  something  I 
want  to  tell  you,  but  it's  a  great  secret." 

"Well,  Peter " 

"  I've  been  a  thinkin',  sir,  I'd  like  to  buy  myself; 
and  you've  always  dealt  so  fa'r  with  me,  I  didn't 
know  but  you  mought  buy  me,  and  than  give  me  a 
chance." 

Friedman's  countenance  brightened.  He  had  be- 
come much  attached  to  Peter,  and  had  often  wished 
in  his  heart  that  by  some  means  the  faithful  fellow 
might  be  free,  but  such  a  plan  as  this  had  not  occurred 
to  him. 

"  Can  you  get  the  money,  Peter?  " 

"  I  reckon  I  could,  if  you  didn't  pay  too  high  for 


Some  of  the 
best  and 
most  indus- 
trious of  the 
slaves 
"  bought 
their  time  " 
by  paying  to 
their  owners 
a  fixed  sum 
each  year ;  if 
they  could 
save  above 
that  sum, 
they  might 
lay  up 
enough  to 
buy  them- 
selves. 


3  o  On   the   Plantation  [No.  7 

me.  Mars  John  Henry  oughtn't  to  ask  a  great  price 
for  me,  no  how,  when  I  served  the  family  so  long." 

"  How  much  shall  I  give  for  you  ?  " 

"  I  think,  sir,  five  hundred  dollars  is  as  much  as 
you  ought  to  pay." 

"  Hogun  will  not  sell  you  for  that  price,"  said  the 
Jew.  "John  Pollock  offered  him  six  hundred,  and 
he  laughed  at  him.  Some  men  in  town  would  give 
eight  hundred  dollars  for  you  —  not  because  you  are 
worth  so  much,  but  because  they  know  you." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  have  served  the  family  for  thirty-five 
years.  I  have  earned  'em  a  heap  of  money,  and  have 
been  mighty  little  trouble  or  expense.  They  can  af- 
ford to  sell  me  for  five  hundred  dollars." 

"  Yes  :  —  well,  I  will  speak  to  Hogun." 

The  proposition  received,  at  first,  but  little  favor. 
Peter  was  an  old  family  servant,  and  they  intended 
to  keep  him  in  the  family  as  long  as  he  lived.  They 
did  not  wish  to  sell  him. 

"  Well,"  said  Friedman,  "  I  would  like  to  buy  him. 
He  has  a  cough,  and  if  he  belonged  to  me,  I  would 
try  to  cure  it,  but  while  he  is  your  property,  I  can  do 
nothing  for  him.  I  will  give  you  five  hundred 
dollars." 

Hogun  turned  away.  He  did  not  want  to  sell  the 
boy  ;  if  he  did,  that  was  no  price  for  him.  He  would 
bring  twice  that  sum. 

After  several  attempts  to  purchase  him  had  been 
unsuccessful,  Peter  determined  to  try  the  power  of 
his  own  eloquence.  Accordingly,  during  the  last 
week  of  the  year,  he  went  out  to  the  plantation. 

His  young  mistress  had  gone  with  her  husband  to 
town  ;  but  they  soon  returned.  Peter  met  them  at  the 
gate,  and  "  Miss  Sarah,"  after  shaking   hands  with 


no.  7]  Buying  Peter  3 1 

him,  went  in  ;  while  the  young  master  remained  in 
the  yard  to  inquire  after  his  health.  His  cough  was 
particularly  troublesome  whenever  any  of  his  mas- 
ter's family  were  near,  and  now  it  annoyed  him  ex- 
ceedingly. "  Ugh !  ugh !  Mass'r  John  Henry,  I 
come  to  see  you  'bout  Mr.  Friedman  buyin'  me.  I 
like  to  live  with  him  ;  and  he  said  he  done  named 
it  to  you." 

"  Yes,  he  did ;  but  he  didn't  offer  any  price  for 
you  —  only  five  hundred  dollars." 

"  Well,  Mass'r  John  Henry,  ain't  that  thar  enough 
for  me  ? " 

"  No  —  I  can  get  a  thousand  dollars  for  you  any  day." 

"  Ugh  !  ugh  !  I  think  you  mighty  hard  to  ask  such 
a  big  price  for  me  when  I  been  in  your  service  so  long. 
Miss  Sarah  done  got  all  my  arnins  ever  since  I  be- 
longed to  her  great  uncle,  Mars  Nattie  Gist.  Now 
when  I'm  a'most  fifty  years  old,  ugh  !  ugh  !  ugh  !  I 
think  five  hundred  dollars  is  enough  for  me ;  and 
'pears  like,  sir,  you  oughtent  to  ask  no  more." 

"  Well,  Peter,  you  know  people  like  to  get  all  they 
can  for  their  property ;  and  it  makes  no  difference 
to  you,  any  how,  whether  I  sell  you  for  a  big  price  or 
a  little  one." 

"Yes,  sir,  it  does,  Mass'r  John,  kase  if  a  person 
gives  a  thousand  dollars  for  me,  he  'lows  he's  gwine 
to  work  it  out  of  me ;  but  Mr.  Friedman  just  wants 
me  to  wait  on  him  about  the  store ;  and  he  says  he'll 
cure  my  cough,  too  —  ugh  !  ugh  !  He  can't  afford  to 
pay  a  big  price  for  me,  and  then  doctor  me  up." 

"  Well,  go  'long  —  I  don't  want  to  sell  you  any 
how  ;  I'd  rather  bring  you  home  to  wait  on  your 
Miss  Sarah,  and  to  drive  the  carriage  than  to  sell  you 
for  any  such  price." 


32  On  the  Plantation  [No.  7 

"Yes,  sir,  if  you  and  Miss  Sarah  was  a  livin'  by 
yourselves,  I'd  like  that;  but  I  don't  never  want  to 
come  back  to  work  on  the  plantation  —  ugh  !  ugh  !  I 
couldn't  stand  that  now.  But  I  belong  to  you,  sir, 
and  of  course  I  must  do  just  as  you  say.  What  shall 
I  do,  Mass'r  John?" 

"  Go  back  to  town,  and  stay  till  I  come  to  see  about 
you." 

"  Good  bye,  Mass'r  John.     Ugh  !  ugh  !  ugh  !  " 

Thus  he  coughed  himself  out  of  the  yard.  All  the 
way  back  to  town  he  walked  with  a  heavy  heart.  If 
his  master  would  not  sell  him,  all  his  bright  hopes 
would  yet  be  blasted.  He  had,  however,  done  all  in 
his  power.  He  had  used  every  argument  that  would 
be  likely  to  influence  him  in  whose  young  hand  his 
destiny  was  held  —  now  he  could  only  wait  with 
patience  the  result. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  young  master's  aversion 
to  sell  an  old  family  servant  was  suddenly  removed. 
On  the  tenth  of  January  an  auction  was  held  in  town 
of  certain  goods  —  the  property  of  his  late  uncle  — 
"  Old  Jimmy  Hogun."  Among  these  "goods,"  were 
ten  choice  negroes,  two  of  whom  were  boys  about 
sixteen  years  old.  These  boys,  young  John  Henry 
wished  to  own;  and  before  they  were  put  up,  he 
called  upon  the  Jew. 

"  Look  here,  Friedman,"  said  he,  "  you  want  Uncle 
Peter,  and  I  want  those  boys  that  are  for  sale  to-day. 
If  you  will  go  in  and  bid  off  one  of  the  boys  for  me, 
I  will  let  you  have  Peter  in  exchange." 

"  I  will  think  about  it.     How  high  will  the  boys  go  ?  " 

"I  don't  know, — they're  not  worth  as  much  as  a 
tried  hand  like  Uncle  Peter.  Step  in,  and  see  how 
the  sale  goes  on." 


no.  7]  Buying  Peter  3  3 

He  left  the  store,  and  Mr.  Isaac  immediately  held  a 
consultation  on  the  subject  with  Peter  himself.  The 
wary  slave  objected  to  the  plan.  "You  are  not  used 
to  dealing  in  slaves,"  said  he,  "  and  you'd  best  not  buy 
the  boy.  There'll  be  some  game  about  it.  If  young 
master  wants  to  buy  him,  he'll  come  round,  I  reckon." 

Soon  the  young  gentleman  called  again  to  learn 
the  decision  of  the  merchant.  Isaac  renewed  his 
former  offer  for  Peter,  but  declined  to  buy  the  boy. 

"  Five  hundred  dollars  is  no  price  for  such  a  ser- 
vant ;  you  may  have  him  for  six  hundred,  though 
he  is  worth  more." 

"  No  —  I  will  not  pay  six  hundred." 

Away  went  Hogun  to  the  auction.  The  two  boys 
were  soon  to  be  put  up.  He  grew  more  and  more 
and  more  anxious  to  buy  them,  and  at  last  deter- 
mined to  make  one  more  effort  to  bring  the  mer- 
chant to  his  terms. 

"Well,  Friedman,"  said  he,  as  he  stepped  into  the 
store,  "  you  may  have  Peter  for  five  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars." 

"  I  will  give  you  five  hundred  dollars,"  said  he, 
"my  brother  authorized  me  to  pay  that  sum." 

"But,"  argued  Hogun,  "he  is  a  great  favorite  in 
town  —  I  have  been  offered  six  hundred  dollars  for 
him." 

"  I  say  I  will  give  five  hundred  ;  not  one  dollar 
more." 

The  sale  was  going  on  —  Hogun  grew  desperate. 
The  boy  he  wanted  would  not  wait  for  bidders,  for 
they  were  choice  fellows. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  as  he  walked  towards  the  door, 
"  you  may  have  him  for  five  hundred ;  but  it's  a 
shame  to  sell  him  so." 


34  On   the  Plantation  [No.  7 

"  Then  he  is  mine  !  " 

"  Yes." 

"  For  five  hundred  dollars  !  " 

"Yes." 

"  Very  well,  your  money  will  be  ready  when  you 
want  it." 

It  was  night.  At  his  desk  sat  the  merchant,  re- 
viewing the  business  of  the  day.  Cautiously  the  door 
was  opened,  and  Peter  entered  the  counting-room, 
pausing  to  listen  before  he  closed  the  door  lest  some 
chance  visitor  might  be  approaching.     All  was  still. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Friedman,"  said  the  slave,  while  his 
voice  trembled,  and  his  whole  frame  was  agitated, 
"  I've  come  to  pay  you  that  money  ;  and  I  reckon  you 
won't  cheat  me.  I've  worked  mighty  hard  to  get  it. 
There's  three  hundred  dollars  in  this  yer  bag." 

So  saying,  he  drew  the  precious  treasure  from  his 
pocket,  glancing  instinctively  towards  the  corners  of 
the  room,  to  be  sure  that  no  spy  was  there  concealed. 
He  proceeded  to  untie  the  bag.  It  was  made  of 
leather  —  about  twelve  inches  long,  three  inches  wide 
at  the  bottom,  and  half  that  width  across  the  top. 

It  contained  pieces  of  silver  of  all  sizes,  and  now 
and  then,  as  they  came  forth  with  a  melodious  clink- 
ing, a  piece  of  gold  glittered  in  the  lamp-light.  When 
the  bag  was  about  half  emptied,  Peter  paused.  It 
would  be  so  easy  for  him  to  lose  it  all,  and  he  had 
known  so  many  slaves  defrauded  of  their  hard-earned 
gains,  that  it  seemed  impossible  for  him  to  trust. 
"  But,"  thought  he,  "  I've  knowed  Mr.  Friedman  a 
long  time,  and  I  never  knowed  him  to  do  a  mean 
trick.  If  I  can't  trust  him,  the  Lord  help  me  !  I 
can't  never  be  free  without  trustin'  some  person,  any 
how." 


no.  s]        Peter  Buying  Himself  3  5 

He  emptied  the  bag  upon  the  table,  and  both  counted 
it  twice.      It  was  right —  three  hundred  dollars. 

Mr.  Friedman  wrote  a  receipt  for  the  money,  and, 
signing  it,  handed  it  to  Peter.  Poor  fellow !  He 
could  not  read  it ;  but  he  believed  it  genuine,  and  a 
load  was  lifted  from  his  heart.  After  all,  he  might 
be  deceived.  He  was  in  this  man's  power  ;  but  he 
resolved  to  trust,  and  to  go  to  work  with  all  his  might 
to  earn  the  balance  of  the  sum  required  to  make  him 
a  freeman. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Hogun  received  the  stipulated 
five  hundred  dollars,  and  gave  a  bill  of  sale,  of  which 
the  following  is  a  copy  : 

"  $500.  For  the  consideration  of  five  hundred 
dollars,  paid  to  me  this  day,  I  have  sold  to  Joseph 
Friedman  a  negro  man  named  Peter.  I  bind  myself 
and  heirs  to  defend  the  title  of  said  negro,  Peter, 
to  the  said  Joseph  Friedman  and  his  heirs  against  all 
claims  whatever. 

"Given  under  my  hand  and  seal  this  15th  January, 
1849.  John  H.  Hogun." 


8.     How    Peter   bought    Himself 

By  Mrs.  Kate  Pickard   (1848) 

Great  sympathy  was  felt  in  Tuscumbia  for  "  poor 
Uncle  Peter."  It  was  so  strange  that  Hogun  would 
sell  such  a  faithful  old  man.  Of  course,  Friedman 
wanted  to  make  money  out  of  him  ;  and  when  he 
became  no  longer  profitable,  he  would  not  scruple  to 
carry  him  off  and  sell  him. 

Thus  spake  gentlemen  and  ladies ;  and  soon  their 


36 


On  the  Plantation  [No.  s 


children  caught  the  tone.  "  Don't  you  think,"  said 
one  bright  little  girl  to  another,  as  they  walked  to 
school,  "  Uncle  Peter  is  sold !  " 

"  Sold  ?  I'm  so  sorry  !  Who's  bought  him  ?  Are 
they  going  to  carry  him  off  ?  " 

"  No  —  no,  not  now.  Mr.  Friedman's  bought  him. 
Pa  says  he  don't  doubt  that  Mr.  Friedman  will  sell 
him  the  very  first  chance  he  gets  to  make  money  out 
of  him  ;  and  then,  perhaps,  he'll  be  taken  off  to  the 
rice  swamps." 

"  Oh  !  that  will  be  too  bad  !  Aunt  Milly  says  that 
in  the  rice  swamps  they  don't  care  no  more  for  killing 
black  folks  than  they  do  for  pigs  and  chickens.  Oh ! 
I'm  so  sorry  for  poor  Uncle  Peter!  But  what  did 
they  sell  him  for?  He  didn't  run  away  —  nor  his 
master  didn't  die." 

"  I  don't  know  what  made  them  sell  him,  his  mas- 
ter wanted  the  money,  I  reckon.  Oh  !  I  wish  my  Pa 
owned  him  —  he  wouldn't  sell  him,  I  know.  Ma  says 
she  thinks  it's  a  pity  for  black  folks  to  be  sold  at  all, 
but  sometimes  it  can't  be  helped." 

"  Well,  I  think  it  ought  to  be  helped,  for  they  feel 
so  bad  to  be  carried  away  off  from  everybody  that 
loves  them.  Just  think  — if  Mr.  Friedman  should 
sell  Uncle  Peter  away  off  where  he  never  could  come 
back  —  Oh  !  wouldn't  it  be  too  bad  ?  " 

Said  a  gentleman,  "  Why  didn't  you  let  me  know, 
Peter,  that  your  master  wanted  to  sell  you?  I'd  not 
have  let  that  Friedman  get  you.  He'll  sell  you  again ; 
or,  perhaps,  work  you  to  death." 

"  No,  sir,  I  reckon  not,"  replied  Peter;  "  Mr.  Fried- 
man's always  been  mighty  good  to  me,  and  I  reckon 
he'll  use  me  fa'r.  Leastways,  I  belong  to  him  now, 
and  he'll  do  just  as  he  thinks  best." 


no.  8]        Peter  Buying  Himself  3  7 

Meanwhile  the  despised  and  suspected  merchant 
was  arranging  his  future  relations  with  the  object  of 
all  this  sympathy.  "  You  may  work,  as  you  did  be- 
fore," said  he  to  Peter,  "but  you  may  keep  your 
earnings.  When  you  get  two  hundred  dollars  more, 
I  will  give  you  free  papers,  and  you  shall  go  where 
you  like.  I  do  not  want  your  work  —  get  all  you  can 
for  yourself." 

Did  the  heart  of  the  slave  bound  at  these  words  ? 
Did  the  tears  of  gratitude  sparkle  in  his  eye,  and  the 
bright  beams  of  hope  irradiate  his  countenance  ? 

Peter  continued  his  usual  labors  with  a  light  heart. 
He  had  no  hire  to  pay  —  his  earnings  were  all  his 
own. 

The  night  after  paying  his  three  hundred  dollars  to 
Mr.  Friedman,  he  went  out  to  make  his  usual  semi- 
monthly visit  to  his  wife.  How  her  heart  throbbed 
when  he  told  her  all !  Again  and  again  she  asked 
him  if  he  were  sure  Mr.  Isaac  would  be  true.  The 
children,  too,  had  their  hundred  questions.  Their 
father  was  very  dear  to  them ;  and  now  he  possessed 
new  dignity,  even  in  their  eyes.  ''Just  think,  he 
would  soon  be  free  !  " 

In  September  of  this  year,  Joseph  Friedman  re- 
turned from  Texas ;  and  soon  after,  Peter  paid  him 
one  hundred  dollars,  which  he  had  earned  since  Jan- 
uary. He  seemed  delighted  at  the  success  of  his 
humble  friend,  and  congratulated  him  on  the  pros- 
pect of  soon  becoming  free.  Only  one  hundred  dol- 
lars was  now  lacking,  and  that,  if  he  were  prospered, 
he  soon  could  earn ;  and  then  he  should  be  free. 

Patiently  he  toiled  on.  His  brow  was  all  unruffled, 
and  no  trace  of  care  was  visible  on  his  cheerful  face. 
He  moved  so  quietly  in  his  accustomed  course,  that 


38 


On  the  Plantation  [No.  a 


men  forgot  their  jealousy,  and  little  maidens  ceased 
to  pity  "poor  Uncle  Peter." 

Late  in  the  evening  of  the  sixteenth  of  April,  1850, 
Peter  sought,  once  more,  the  counting-room  of  Mr. 
Friedman.  His  hand  might  well  tremble  as  he  raised 
the  latch  ;  for  his  all  was  now  at  stake,  and  he  was 
helpless.  He  entered.  There  sat  the  little  man, 
looking  at  him  with  his  keen  black  eyes.  Timidly 
he  drew  forth  his  leather  bag,  and  commenced  count- 
ing out  the  money. 

A  footstep  approached.  Mr.  Friedman  quietly 
laid  a  pile  of  papers  over  the  coin,  and  the  auctioneer 
walked  in. 

"  What,  Peter,"  said  he,  "  are  you  paying  up  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  Mass'r  Joe  make  me  pay  him  up  close." 

"  How  much  do  you  have  to  pay  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  he  makes  me  pay  him  half  dollar  a  day." 

"That's  pretty  tight,  but  it's  the  best  way,  after 
all." 

"  Yes  —  that  is  so  —  I  like  to  keep  all  close.  Peter 
must  pay  me  promptly." 

When  the  neighbor's  chat  was  ended,  and  they 
heard  his  receding  footsteps  on  the  sidewalk,  they 
finished  counting  the  money.  How  beautiful  it 
looked  to  Peter !  that  little  heap  of  coin,  as  he  shoved 
it  round,  and  felt  that  now  his  fate  hung  entirely  on 
the  will  of  the  little  man  before  him. 

Mr.  Friedman  took  up  his  pen,  and  wrote  a  receipt 
in  full,  together  with  a  Certificate  of  Freedom,  as  fol- 
lows : 

Received,  Tuscumbia,  January  26th,  1849, 
of  my  boy  Peter,  three  hundred  dollars       .      $300  00 

Jos.  Friedman. 


no.  8]         Peter  Buying  Himself         3  9 

Reed.  Sept.  1st,  1849,  of  niyboy  Peter,  $88  00 
Eighty-eight  dollars  and  twelve  dollars,  12  00  100  00 

Reed.  March  29th,  1850,  of  Peter,  sixty  dollars,  60  00 

Jos.  Friedman,      $460  00 

Received,  April  16th,  1850,  forty  dollars,         4000 

$500  00 

For,  and  in  consideration  of  the  above  five  hundred 
dollars,  I  have  this  16th  day  of  April,  1850,  given 
Peter  a  Bill  of  Sale,  and  given  him  his  freedom. 

Joseph  Friedman. 

Tuscumbia,  Ala.,  April  16th,  1850. 


no.  9]      A  Poor  Whites  Opinion       41 

9.    A    Poor   White's    Opinion   of 
Slavery 

By  Hinton  Ravan  Helper  (1857) 

It  is  a  fact  well  known  to  every  intelligent  Southerner  This  extract 
that  we  are  compelled  to  go  to  the  North  for  almost   lsfroma 

......  ,        ,  r  book  called 

every  article  of  utility  and  adornment,  from  matches,    The  impend- 
shoepegs  and  paintings  up  to  cotton-mills,  steamships  ins  Crisis, 

J       A  *u    *  U  (         '  4.      A  written  by  a 

and    statuary ;  that   we    have    no    foreign    trade,   no   southern 
princely  merchants,  nor  respectable  artists ;  that,  in   white  man. 
comparison  with  the  free  states,  we  contribute  nothing  greanJxcite- 
to  the  literature,  polite  arts  and  inventions  of  the  age  ;   ment  in  Con 
that,  for  want  of  profitable  employment  at  home,  large  gress* 
numbers    of   our  native    population    find  themselves 
necessitated  to  emigrate  to  the  West,  whilst  the  free 
states  retain  not  only  the  larger  proportion  of  those 
born   within  their  own  limits,  but    induce    annually, 
hundreds  of    thousands  of   foreigners  to   settle    and 
remain  amongst  them.     We  know  that  almost  every- 
thing produced  at  the  North  meets  with  ready  sale, 
while,    at   the    same  time,  there  is  no  demand,  even 
among  our  own  citizens,  for  the  productions  of  South- 
ern industry ;  that,  owing  to  the  absence  of  a  proper 
system  of  business  amongst  us,  the  North  becomes, 
in  one  way  or  another,  the  proprietor  and   dispenser 
of  all  our  floating  wealth,  and  that  we  are  dependent 
on   Northern  capitalists  for  the  means  necessary  to 
build  our  railroads,  canals  and  other  public  improve- 
ments ;    that  if  we  want  to  visit  a    foreign  country, 
even  though  it  may  lie  directly  South  of  us,  we  find 
no  convenient  way  of  getting  there  except  by  taking 
passage  through  a  Northern    port;  and  that  nearly 


42  On  the  Plantation  [No.  9 

all  the  profits  arising  from  the  exchange  of  com- 
modities, from  insurance  and  shipping  offices,  and 
from  the  thousand  and  one  industrial  pursuits  of  the 
country,  accrue  to  the  North,  and  are  there  invested  in 
the  erection  of  those  magnificent  cities  and  stupendous 
works  of  art  which  dazzle  the  eyes  of  the  South,  and 
attest  the  superiority  of  free  institutions. 

The  North  is  the  Mecca  of  our  merchants,  and  to 
it  they  must  and  do  make  two  pilgrimages  each  year 
—  one  in  the  spring  and  one  in  the  fall.  All  our 
commercial,  mechanical,  manufactural,  and  literary 
supplies  come  from  there.  We  want  Bibles,  brooms, 
buckets  and  books,  and  we  go  to  the  North  ;  we  want 
pens,  ink,  paper,  wafers,  and  envelopes,  and  we  go  to 
the  North ;  we  want  shoes,  hats,  handkerchiefs,  um- 
brellas and  pocket  knives,  and  we  go  to  the  North ; 
we  want  furniture,  crockery,  glassware  and  pianos, 
and  we  go  to  the  North  ;  we  want  toys,  primers, 
school  books,  fashionable  apparel,  machinery,  medi- 
cines, tombstones,  and  a  thousand  other  things,  and 
we  go  to  the  North  for  them  all.  Instead  of  keeping 
our  money  in  circulation  at  home,  by  patronizing  our 
own  mechanics,  manufacturers,  and  laborers,  we  send 
it  all  away  to  the  North,  and  there  it  remains  ;  it 
never  falls  into  our  hands  again. 

In  one  way  or  another  we  are  more  or  less  subser- 
vient to  the  North  every  day  of  our  lives.  In  infancy 
we  are  swaddled  in  Northern  muslin  ;  in  childhood  we 
are  humored  with  Northern  gewgaws;  in  youth 
we  are  instructed  out  of  Northern  books  ;  at  the  age 
of  maturity  we  sow  our  "  wild  oats  "  on  Northern 
soil ;  in  middle-life  we  exhaust  our  wealth,  energies 
and  talents  in  the  dishonorable  vocation  of  entailing 
our  dependence  on  our  children  and  on  our  children's 


No.  9]     A  Poor  White  s  Opinion        43 

children,  and,  to  the  neglect  of  our  own  interests  and 
the  interests  of  those  around  us,  in  giving  aid  and 
succor  to  every  department  of  Northern  power  ;  in 
the  decline  of  life  we  remedy  our  eye-sight  with 
Northern  spectacles,  and  support  our  infirmities  with 
Northern  canes  ;  in  old  age  we  are  drugged  with  North- 
ern physic  ;  and,  finall)>when  we  die,  our  inanimate 
bodies,  shrouded  in  Northern  cambric,  are  stretched 
upon  the  bier,  borne  to  the  grave  in  a  Northern  car- 
riage, entombed  with  a  Northern  spade,  and  memorized 
with  a  Northern  slab. 

When  asked  why  the  North  has  surpassed  the  South 
I  feel  no  disposition  to  mince  matters,  but  mean  to 
speak  plainly,  and  to  the  point.  The  son  of  a  ven- 
erated parent,  who,  while  he  lived,  was  a  considerate 
and  merciful  slaveholder,  a  native  of  the  South,  born 
and  bred  in  North  Carolina,  of  a  family  whose  home 
has  been  in  the  valley  of  the  Yadkin  for  nearly  a 
century  and  a  half,  a  Southerner  by  instinct  and  by 
all  the  influences  of  thought,  habits,  and  kindred,  and 
with  the  desire  and  fixed  purpose  to  reside  per- 
manently within  the  limits  of  the  South,  and  with 
the  expectation  of  dying  there  also  —  I  feel  that  I 
have  the  right  to  express  my  opinion,  however  humble 
or  unimportant  it  may  be,  on  any  and  every  question 
that  affects  the  public  good. 

In  my  opinion,  the  causes  which  have  impeded  the 
progress  and  prosperity  of  the  South  sunk  a  large 
majority  of  our  people  in  galling  poverty  and  igno- 
rance ;  entailed  upon  us  a  humiliating  dependence  on 
the  Free  States ;  disgraced  us  in  the  recesses  of  our 
own  souls,  and  brought  us  under  reproach  in  the  eyes 
of  all  civilized  and  enlightened  nations  —  may  all  be 
traced  to  one  common  source,  and  there  find  solution 


44  On  the  Plantation  [No.  9 

in  the  most  hateful  and  horrible  word,  that  was  ever 
incorporated  into  the  vocabulary  of  human  economy 
—  slavery. 

The  first  and  most  sacred  duty  of  every  Southerner, 
who  has  the  honor  and  the  interest  of  his  country  at 
heart,  is  to  declare  himself  as  an  unqualified  and  uncom- 
promising abolitionist.  No  conditional  or  half-way 
declaration  will  avail;  no  more  threatening  demon- 
stration will  succeed.  With  those  who  desire  to  be 
instrumental  in  bringing  about  the  triumph  of  liberty 
over  slavery,  there  should  be  neither  evasion,  vacilla- 
tion, nor  equivocation.  We  should  listen  to  no  modi- 
fying terms  or  compromises  that  may  be  proposed  by 
the  proprietors  of  the  unprofitable  and  ungodly  insti- 
tution. Nothing  short  of  the  complete  abolition  of 
slavery  can  save  the  South  from  falling  into  the  vor- 
tex of  utter  ruin.  Too  long  have  we  yielded  a  sub- 
missive obedience  to  the  tyrannical  domination  of  an 
inflated  oligarchy ;  too  long  have  we  tolerated  their 
arrogance  and  self-conceit ;  too  long  have  we  sub- 
mitted to  their  unjust  and  savage  exactions.  Let  us 
now  wrest  from  them  the  sceptre  of  power,  establish 
liberty  and  equal  rights  throughout  the  land,  and 
henceforth  and  forever  guard  our  legislative  halls 
from  the  pollutions  and  usurpations  of  pro-slavery 
demagogues. 

We  propose  to  subvert  this  entire  system  of  oligar- 
chial despotism.  We  think  there  should  be  some  leg- 
islation for  decent  white  men,  not  alone  for  negroes 
and  slaveholders.  Slavery  lies  at  the  root  of  all  the 
shame,  poverty,  ignorance,  tyranny  and  imbecility  of 
the  South ;  slavery  must  be  thoroughly  eradicated ; 
let  this  be  done,  and  a  glorious  future  will  await  us. 


No.  10] 


Old  Junk 


45 


10.    A  Pompous  Old  Negro 

By  Edward  Albert   Pollard   (1858) 

I  have  reserved  for  you  some  account  of  that  most 
distinguished  palaverer,  romancer,  diplomat,  and  ulti- 
mately a  cobbler  of  old  shoes  —  Junk.  He  was  a 
short,  puffy,  copper-colored  negro,  very  greasy,  always 
perspiring,  and  a  little  lame.  "  Missis  Perline  "  can 
tell  you  of  many  sore  experiences .  of  Junk's  shoe- 
leather  ;  when  by  especial  privilege,  she  was  mounted 
on  "hip-shot  Jack"  to  go  to  church,  Junk  would  way- 
lay her  in  the  woods  at  a  distance  from  the  house,  and 
claim  a  lift  behind  her  ;  once  there,  by  dint  of  his  best 
boots  and  crutch,  seconded  by  his  young  mistress' 
endeavors  with  the  switch,  the  afflicted  horse  would 
be  forced  into  all  sorts  of  shuffling  excuses  for  a 
gallop. 

Junk  had  not  always  been  a  cobbler ;  to  believe  his 
own  narrative,  he  had  been  a  circus-rider,  an  alligator 
hunter,  an  attache  of  a  foreign  legation,  and  a  mur- 
derer, stained  with  the  blood  of  innumerable  French- 
men, with  whom  he  had  quarreled  when  on  his 
European  tour. 

The  fact  was  that  Junk's  master  was  once  sent  on 
a  European  mission,  and  proposed  at  first  to  take  our 
hero  in  his  company.  Before  leaving  the  limits  of 
Virginia,  however,  he  became  alarmed  at  the  risk  of 
taking  Junk  among  the  abolitionists,  and  finally  dis- 
posed of  him  by  hiring  him  out  as  a  shoemaker  or 
cobbler,  in  a  town  at  some  distance  from  his  former 
residence.  Junk  never  forgave  his  master  for  this 
unlooked-for  slight ;  it  cut  him  hard  and  deep.  As 
an  instance  of  the  pride  of  our  hero,  it  is  well  known 


Mr.  Pollard, 
a  Southern 
journalist, 
was  brought 
Up  in  the 
midst  of  slav- 
ery ;  and  he 
gives  the  best 
side  of  it. 


46 


On  the  Plantation  [No.  10 


that  when  Junk  was  in  his  working  clothes,  he  always 
professed  to  belong  to  the  man  who  kept  the  shoe 
shop,  and  that  it  was  only  when  he  disported  himself 
in  his  holiday  attire,  that  he  claimed  to  belong  to  the 
minister  plenipotentiary. 

When  Junk  returned  to  the  old  plantation  his  great 
importance  began.  He  commenced  by  imposing  on 
all  the  negroes  round  about,  old  and  young,  the  story 
that  he  had  actually  been  to  France  with  his  master, 
who  still  remained  there,  and  that  during  the  time  he 
had  been  missed  from  the  Green  Mountain  he  had 
been  lionizing  in  the  famous  city  of  Paris.  The  story 
took  with  the  innocent  darkies  and  gained  Junk  great 
fame.  He  became  the  oracle  of  the  kitchen,  and  the 
negroes  would  crowd  around  him  on  every  possible 
occasion,  as  he  told  the  eventful  experiences  of  his 
pilgrimage.  Some  few  of  the  men  were  skeptical, 
many  were  envious ;  but  Junk  held  his  own,  and  was 
still  the  especial  object  of  the  admiration  of  the  house- 
maids, who  gave  their  sympathy  and  cheers  in  every 
combat  he  had  with  rival  beaux  as  tributes  to  the 
truth  of  his  information.  "  'Twarnt  no  use,"  Miss 
Irene  would  remark,  "  to  talk  to  niggers  that  never 
knowed  nothin'  bout  de  furrin  country  and  de  Parish, 
where  ole  mass'r  was  minister  and  out-preached  dem 
all.  Didn't  Mr.  Junk  speak  the  langwig  ?  —  and  dar 
is  dat  nigger,  Colin,  wid  his  swelled  head,  must  always 
put  in  his  mouth,  and  make  Mr.  Junk  out  a  born 
liar." 

The  ideas  concerning  the  French  which  Junk  spread 
among  the  negroes  were  somewhat  extraordinary. 
He  represented  them  as  a  good-for-nothing  set,  much 
below  the  standard  of  negro  civilization,  a  set  of  puny 
barbarians,  who  regarded  an  American  darkey  as  a 


no.  10]  Old  yunk  47 

being  of  great  majesty.  Junk  had  slain  Frenchmen, 
had  treated  the  little,  barbarous  negro-worshippers 
with  disdain,  and  had  received  from  them  tokens  of 
great  distinction.  To  these  points  Colin's  cross-ex- 
aminations were  mainly  directed.  He  doubted  Junk's 
prowess  ;  he  laughed  incredulously  at  his  deeds  of 
blood  ;  and  he  even  went  so  far  as  to  dispute  the 
assertion  of  Junk's  intimacy  "wid  barbarians  dat  were 
white  folks,"  and  to  contend  that  his  friend,  the 
count,  was  some  old  "no  count  nigger  "  he  had  come 
across  among  the  benighted  regions  outside  of  Ole 
Virginny. 

We  boys  used  often  to  join  the  crowd  of  Junk's 
listeners,  and  would  have  our  own  amusement  in  quiz- 
zing the  old  cobbler.  "  I  suppose,  Uncle  Junk,"  Dick 
would  say,  "  when  you  were  in  Paris  you  saw  the  Palais 
Royal." 

"  Saw  de  Paris  Lawyers,  young  mass'r  !  Why,  in 
course  I  did.  You  see  when  I  got  dere,  I  went  to  de 
courthouse  to  hear  'em  plead.  And  when  I  come  in, 
de  Paris  lawyers  were  pleading  in  French  ;  but  when 
dey  seed  me,  dey  den  commence  pleadin  in  Amerikin." 

The  skeptical  Colin  would  again  come  up  to  the 
attack.  "  I  say,  big  hoss,  I  hope  you  didn't  disgrace 
Ole  Virginny  by  wearing  dose  boots  in  de  city  "  — 
referring  contemptuously  to  Junk's  immense  cowhide 
boots,  which  showed  the  deformity  of  one  of  his  feet. 
But  Junk  was  always  ready  for  the  attack ;  and  im- 
mediately remarked  with  a  serious  and  gloomy  look, 
that  he  had  once  killed  a  certain  small  Frenchman 
who  had  insulted  his  boots. 

"  How  was  it,  Junk  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  see  I  was  walking  in  de  garden  wid  em 
breeches  tucked  down  in  my  boots,  when  two  of  dese 


48 


On  the  Plantation 


[No.  10 


mean  Frenchmen  come  along,  and  de  one  to  toder  cast 
an  insult  on  my  boots,  cos  you  see  he  didn't  know 
dat  I  knowd  de  langwig  and  could  hear  him,  Well, 
I  wouldn't  stan'  no  insult  from  no  Frenchman,  no  how ; 


so  I  jes  struck  him  wid  my  nerves.  And  one  lick  was 
jes  enuf —  it  killed  de  man  ;  and  dey  sent  for  de  sec- 
retary to  sot  on  him." 

"  But  what  did  he  say  about  de  boots,  big  hoss  ? " 
would  inquire  the  persistent  Colin. 


No.   n] 


A  Slave  Auction 


49 


"  Well,  you  see  de  man  talked  French,  and  tain't 
while  to  tell  dat  to  poor  ignorant  black  trash  like 
you." 

But  Colin  was  pressing.  He  wanted  to  hear  Junk's 
French.  The  housemaids  too,  desired  a  specimen  of 
the  same,  if  Mr.  Junk  would  kindly  consent  to  put  his 
rival  down.  "  Dat  nigger  Colin  had  too  much  sass 
anyhow  —  Mr.  Junk,  wont  you  please  say  what  de 
Frenchman  say  ? " 

"  Well,"  replied  Junk,  with  a  sudden  jerk  of  conde- 
scension, "  de  man  didn't  say  much.  He  say  'Poly 
glot  sots,'  and  de  Amerikin  for  dat,  you  know,  is  '  de 
boots  brought  de  fool.'  "  And  while  all  joined  in 
laughing  at  Colin's  discomfiture,  Junk  would  make 
his  retreat  good,  walking  off  with  a  careless  and  pro- 
voking whistle. 


I  I. 


A  Slave  Auction 


By  Edward  Albert  Pollard  (1858) 

I   attended  a  slave  auction  here  the  other  day.  The  sale  of 

The  negroes  were  called  up  in  succession  on  the  steps  slaves  ™as  a 

of  the  court-house,  where  the  crier  stood.     Naturally  system,  and 

most  of  them  appeared  anxious  as  the  bidding  was  many  Painful 

scenes  oc- 

going  on,  turning  their  eyes  from  one  bidder  to  the  CUrred  at 
other  ;  while  the  scene  would  be  occasionally  enliv-  slave  auc- 
ened  by  some  jest  in  depreciation  of  the  negro  on  the 
stand,  which  would  be  received  with  especial  merri- 
ment by  his  fellow  negroes,  who  awaited  their  turn, 
and  looked  on  from  a  large  wagon  in  which  they 
were  placed.  As  I  came  up,  a  second-rate  plantation 
hand  of  the  name  of  Noah,  but  whom  the  crier  per- 
sisted in  calling  "  Noey,"  was  being  offered.     Noey, 

E 


50  On  the  Plantation  [No.  n 

on  mounting  the  steps,  had  assumed  a  most  drooping 
aspect,  hanging  his  head  and  affecting  the  feebleness 
of  old  age.  He  had  probably  hoped  to  have  avoided 
a  sale  by  a  dodge,  which  is  very  common  in  such 
cases.  But  the  first  bid,  a  thousand  dollars,  startled 
him,  and  he  looked  eagerly  to  the  quarter  whence  it 
proceeded.  "  Never  mind  who  he  is,  he  has  got  the 
money.  Now,  gentlemen,  just  go  on;  who  will  say 
fifty?  "  And  so  the  crier  proceeds  with  his  monoto- 
nous calling.  "  I  aint  worth  all  that,  mass'r ;  I  aint 
much  'count  no  how,"  cries  Noey  energetically  to  the 
first  bidder.  "  Yes,  you  are,  Noey  —  ah,  $1,010, 
thank  you,  sir,"  replies  the  crier.  The  gentleman 
who  makes  this  bid  is  recognized  by  Noey  as  "  Mass'r 
John,"  one  of  the  heirs.  $1,011,  rejoins  the  first 
bidder,  and  Noey  throws  a  glance  of  infinite  disdain 
at  him  for  his  presumption  in  bidding  against  his 
master. 

As  the  bidders  call  over  each  other,  Noey  becomes 
more  excited.  "  Drive  on,  Mass'r  John,"  he  exclaims, 
laughing  with  excitement.  The  bidding  is  very  slow. 
Mass'r  John  evidently  hesitates  at  the  last  call,  $1085, 
as  too  large  a  price  for  the  slave,  though  anxious  to 
bid  the  poor  fellow  in  ;  but  Noey  is  shouting  to  him, 
amid  the  incitements  of  the  crowd,  to  "  Drive  on  "  ; 
and,  after  a  pause,  he  says  in  a  firm  tone,  eleven 
hundred  dollars.  The  crier  calls  out  the  round  num- 
bers with  a  decided  emphasis.  He  looks  at  the  first 
bidder,  who  is  evidently  making  up  his  mind  whether 
to  go  higher,  while  Noey  is  regarding  him,  too,  with 
a  look  of  the  keenest  suspense.  The  man  shakes  his 
head  at  last,  the  hammer  falls,  and  Noey,  with  an 
exulting  whoop,  dashes  down  the  steps  to  his  master. 


PART  II 

THE   UNDERGROUND   RAIL- 
ROAD AND   THE   CONTRABAND 


12.    On  the  Underground  Railroad 

By  Levi  Coffin   (1850) 

The  fugitives  generally  arrived  in  the  night,  and 
were  secreted  among  the  friendly  colored  people  or 
hidden  in  the  upper  room  of  our  house.  They  came 
alone  or  in  companies,  and  in  a  few  instances  had  a 
white  guide  to  direct  them. 

One  company  of  twenty-eight  that  crossed  the  Ohio 
River  at  Lawrenceburg,  Indiana  —  twenty  miles  be- 
low Cincinnati  —  had  for  conductor  a  white  man 
whom  they  had  employed  to  assist  them.  The  com- 
pany of  twenty-eight  slaves  referred  to,  all  lived  in 
the  same  neighborhood  in  Kentucky,  and  had  been 
planning  for  some  time  how  they  could  make  their 
escape  from  slavery.  This  white  man  —  John  Fair- 
field  —  had  been  in  the  neighborhood  for  some  weeks 
buying  poultry,  etc.,  for  market,  and  though  among 
the  whites  he  assumed  to  be  very  pro-slavery,  the 
negroes  soon  found  that  he  was  their  friend. 

He  was  engaged  by  the  slaves  to  help  them  across 
the  Ohio  River  and  conduct  them  to  Cincinnati. 
They  paid  him  some  money  which  they  had  managed 


"  The  Under- 
ground Rail- 
road "  was 
not  a  rail- 
road at  all, 
but  an  organ- 
ization of  ab- 
olitionists to 
help  slaves  to 
run  away 
from  their 
masters. 
Ohio  and 
Pennsylva- 
nia, lying  be- 
tween the 
slave  states 
and  Canada, 
had  many 
secret  routes 
northward. 
Levi  Coffin 
operated  at 
Cincinnati. 
The  Under- 
ground Rail- 
road was  the 
most  effective 


protest 
against  slav- 
ery, because 
it  enabled 
thousands  of 
people  in  the 
North  to  see 
the  result  of 
slavery. 


5  2  Underground  Railroad     [No.  12 

to  accumulate.  The  amount  was  small,  considering 
the  risk  the  conductor  assumed,  but  it  was  all  they 
had.  Several  of  the  men  had  their  wives  with  them, 
and  one  woman  a  little  child  with  her,  a  few  months 
old.  John  Fairfield  conducted  the  party  to  the  Ohio 
River  opposite  the  mouth  of  the  Big  Miami,  where  he 
knew  there  were  several  skiffs  tied  to  the  bank,  near 
a  wood-yard.  The  entire  party  crowded  into  three 
large  skiffs  or  yawls,  and  made  their  way  slowly 
across  the  river.  The  boats  were  overloaded  and 
sank  so  deep  that  the  passage  was  made  in  much 
peril.  The  boat  John  Fairfield  was  in  was  leaky,  and 
began  to  sink  when  a  few  rods  from  the  Ohio  bank, 
and  he  sprang  out  on  the  sand-bar,  where  the  water 
was  two  or  three  feet  deep,  and  tried  to  drag  the  boat 
to  the  shore.  He  sank  to  his  waist  in  mud  and  quick- 
sands, and  had  to  be  pulled  out  by  some  of  the  negroes. 
The  entire  party  waded  out  through  mud  and  water 
and  reached  the  shore  safely,  though  all  were  wet, 
and  several  lost  their  shoes.  They  hastened  along 
the  bank  toward  Cincinnati,  but  it  was  now  late  in  the 
night  and  daylight  appeared  before  they  reached  the 
city. 

'  Their  plight  was  a  most  pitiable  one.  They  were 
cold,  hungry,  and  exhausted ;  those  who  had  lost 
their  shoes  in  the  mud  suffered  from  bruised  and 
lacerated  feet,  while  to  add  to  their  discomfort  a 
drizzling  rain  fell  during  the  latter  part  of  the  night. 
They  could  not  enter  the  city  for  their  appearance 
would  at  once  proclaim  them  to  be  fugitives.  When 
they  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  below  Mill 
Creek,  John  Fairfield  hid  them  as  well  as  he  could,  in 
ravines  that  had  been  washed  in  the  sides  of  the 
steep  hills,  and  told  them  not  to  move  until  he  re- 


No.  12] 


Fugitives 


53 


turned.  .  He  then  went  directly  to  John  Hatfield,  a 
worthy  colored  man,  a  deacon  in  the  Zion  Baptist 
church,  and  told  his  story.  He  had  applied  to  Hat- 
field before,  and  knew  him  to.be  a  great  friend  to  the 
fugitives  —  one  who  had  often  sheltered  them  under 
his  roof  and  aided  them  in  every  way  he  could.  When 
he  arrived,  wet  and  muddy,  at  John  Hatfield's  house, 
he  was  scarcely  recognized.     He  soon  made  himself 


A   STATION    ON    THE   UNDERGROUND    RAILROAD. 


and  his  errand  known,  and  Hatfield  at  once  sent  a 
messenger  to  me,  requesting  me  to  come  to  his  house 
without  delay,  as  there  were  fugitives  in  danger.  I 
went  at  once  and  met  several  prominent  colored  men 
who  had  also  been  summoned.  While  dry  clothes 
and  a  warm  breakfast  were  furnished  to  John  Fair- 
field, we  anxiously  discussed  the  situation  of  the 
twenty-eight  fugitives  who  were  lying,  hungry  and 
shivering,  in  the  hills  in  sight  of  the  city. 


54         Underground  Railroad     [No.  12 

Several  plans  were  suggested,  but  none,  seemed 
practicable.  At  last  I  suggested  that  some  one 
should  go  immediately  to  a  certain  German  livery 
stable  in  the  city  and  hire  two  coaches,  and  that  sev- 
eral colored  men  should  go  out  in  buggies  and  take 
the  women  and  children  from  their  hiding-places,  then 
that  the  coaches  and  buggies  should  form  a  proces- 
sion as  if  going  to  a  funeral,  and  march  solemnly 
along  the  road  leading  to  Cumminsville,  on  the  west 
side  of  Mill  Creek.  In  the  western  part  of  Cummins- 
ville was  the  Methodist  Episcopal  burying-ground, 
where  a  certain  lot  of  ground  had  been  set  apart  for 
the  use  of  the  colored  people.  They  should  pass  this 
and  continue  on  the  Colerain  pike  till  they  reached  a 
right-hand  road  leading  to  College  Hill.  At  the  lat- 
ter place  they  would  find  a  few  colored  families,  liv- 
ing in  the  outskirts  of  the  village,  and  could  take 
refuge  among  them.  Jonathan  Cable,  a  Presbyterian 
minister,  who  lived  near  Farmer's  College,  on  the 
west  side  of  the  village,  was  a  prominent  abolitionist, 
and  I  knew  that  he  would  give  prompt  assistance  to 
the  fugitives. 

I  advised  that  one  of  the  buggies  should  leave  the 
procession  at  Cumminsville,  after  passing  the  bury- 
ing-ground, and  hasten  to  College  Hill  to  apprise 
friend  Cable  of  the  coming  of  the  fugitives,  that  he 
might  make  arrangements  for  their  reception  in  suita- 
ble places.  My  suggestions  and  advice  were  agreed 
to,  and  acted  upon  as  quickly  as  possible. 

While  the  carriages  and  buggies  were  being  pro- 
cured, John  Hatfield's  wife  and  daughter,  and  other 
colored  women  of  the  neighborhood,  busied  them- 
selves in  preparing  provisions  to  be  sent  to  the  fugi- 
tives.    A  large  stone  jug  was  filled  with  hot  coffee, 


no.  12]  Fugitives  5  5 

and  this,  together  with  a  supply  of  bread  and  other 
provisions,  was  placed  in  a  buggy  and  sent  on  ahead 
of  the  carriages,  that  the  hungry  fugitives  might  re- 
ceive some  nourishment  before  starting.  The  con- 
ductor of  the  party,  accompanied  by  John  Hatfield, 
went  in  the  buggy,  in  order  to  apprise  the  fugitives 
of  the  arrangements  that  had  been  made,  and  have 
them  in  readiness  to  approach  the  road  as  soon  as 
the  carriages  arrived.  Several  blankets  were  pro- 
vided to  wrap  around  the  women  and  children,  whom 
we  knew  must  be  chilled  by  their  exposure  to  the  rain 
and  cold.  The  fugitives  were  very  glad  to  get  the 
supply  of  food ;  the  hot  coffee  especially  was  a  great 
treat  to  them,  and  much  revived  them.  About  the 
time  they  finished  their  breakfast  the  carriages  and 
buggies  drove  up  and  halted  in  the  road,  and  the 
fugitives  were  quickly  conducted  to  them  and  placed 
inside.  The  women  in  the  tight  carriages  wrapped 
themselves  in  the  blankets,  and  the  woman  who  had 
a  young  babe  muffled  it  closely  to  keep  it  warm,  and 
to  prevent  its  cries  from  being  heard.  The  little 
thing  seemed  to  be  suffering  much  pain,  having  been 
exposed  so  long  to  the  rain  and  cold. 

All  the  arrangements  were  carried  out,  and  the 
party  reached  College  Hill  in  safety,  and  were  kindly 
received  and  cared  for. 

When  it  was  known  by  some  of  the  prominent 
ladies  of  the  village  that  a  large  company  of  fugitives 
were  in  the  neighborhood,  they  met  together  to  pre- 
pare some  clothing  for  them.  Jonathan  Cable  as- 
certained the  number  and  size  of  the  shoes  needed, 
and  the  clothes  required  to  fit  the  fugitives  for  travel- 
ing, and  came  down  in  his  carriage  to  my  house, 
knowing  that  the  Anti-Slavery  Sewing  Society  had 


56  Underground  Railroad     [No.  12 

their  depository  there.  I  went  with  him.  to  purchase 
the  shoes  that  were  needed,  and  my  wife  selected  all 
the  clothing  we  had  that  was  suitable  for  the  occa- 
sion ;  the  rest  was  furnished  by  the  noble  women  of 
College  Hill. 

I  requested  friend  Cable  to  keep  the  fugitives  as 
secluded  as  possible  until  a  way  could  be  provided 
for  safely  forwarding  them  on  their  way  to  Canada. 
Friend  Cable  was  a  stockholder  in  the  Underground 
Railroad,  and  we  consulted  together  about  the  best 
route,  finally  deciding  on  the  line  by  way  of  Hamilton, 
West  Elkton,  Eaton,  Paris  and  Newport,  Indiana.  I 
wrote  to  one  of  my  particular  friends  at  West  Elkton, 
informing  him  that  I  had  some  valuable  stock  on 
hand  which  I  wished  to  forward  to  Newport,  and  re- 
quested him  to  send  three  two-horse  wagons  —  cov- 
ered—  to  College  Hill,  where  the  stock  was  resting, 
in  charge  of  Jonathan  Cable. 

The  three  wagons  arrived  promptly  at  the  time 
mentioned,  and  a  little  after  dark  took  in  the  party, 
together  with  another  fugitive,  who  had  arrived  the 
night  before,  and  whom  we  added  to  the  company. 
They  went  through  to  West  Elkton  safely  that  night, 
and  the  next  night  reached  Newport,  Indiana.  With 
little  delay  they  were  forwarded  on  from  station  to 
station  through  Indiana  and  Michigan  to  Detroit, 
having  fresh  teams  and  conductors  each  night,  and 
resting  during  the  day.  I  had  letters  from  different 
stations,  as  they  progressed,  giving  accounts  of  the 
arrival  and  departure  of  the  train,  and  I  also  heard  of 
their  safe  arrival  on  the  Canada  shore. 


no.  13]  Zeke  s   Freedom  57 

1  3.    "  Zeke  is  Free  ' 

By  Rev.  William  M.  Mitchell  (1850) 

Some  years  ago  slavery  existed  in  Delaware,  and 
running  away  was  then  as  much  practised  as  it  is 
now ;  many  of  the  fugitives  got  to  Philadelphia.  A 
certain  Godwin  was  in  the  habit  of  buying  these  run- 
away slaves  "  running  "  — that  is,  he  paid  the  master 
a  small  sum,  and  took  the  chance  of  catching  them ; 
of  course,  if  he  did  not  find  them,  he  lost  his  money  ; 
but  if  he  did  get  them  the  slaves  were  his  and  he 
could  sell  them  at  a  large  profit.  In  this  way  God- 
win once  purchased  a  slave  named  Ezekiel,  commonly 
called  Zeke. 

Godwin  came  to  Philadelphia  and  had  the  coolness  to 
call  on  Isaac  T.  Hopper,  a  strong  Quaker  Abolitionist, 
for  information  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  Zeke.  While 
talking  with  Mr.  Hopper,  up  came  a  black  man,  who 
paid  close  attention  to  the  conversation.  "  How  do 
you  do,  Mr.  Godwin,"  said  he ;  "  don't  you  know 
me  ?  Don't  you  remember  a  man  that  lived  near 
your  neighbor,  Mr.  Wilson  ?  "  continued  he.  "  I  am 
that  man  and  I  am  Zeke's  brother."  The  speculator 
inquired  if  he  knew  where  his  brother  was. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Mr.  Godwin,  but  I  am  sorry  you  have 
bought  Zeke ;  you'll  never  make  anything  of  him." 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  Zeke  ? " 

"  When  such  fellows  as  my  brother  come  to  Phila- 
delphia, they  get  into  bad  company ;  they  are  afraid 
to  be  seen  about  in  the  day,  and  they  go  prowling 
about  at  night.  I'm  sorry  you  have  bought  Zeke; 
he  is  just  such  a  character,  though  he  is  my 
brother." 


n/ 


58  Underground  Railroad     [No.  13 

Godwin,  thinking  it  was  rather  a  bad  case,  said, 
"  Suppose  you  buy  Zeke  ?  " 

"  I  should  have  to  take  care  of  him  if  I  did,"  re- 
plied the  black  man.  "  Suppose,  however,  I  should 
think  of  buying  him,  what  would  you  take  for  him  ?  " 

The  trader  asked  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars, 
which  the  black  man  most  decidedly  refused  to  give. 
When  the  trader  came  down  to  sixty  dollars  the  black 
man  went  out  and  soon  returned  with  the  money. 

Mr.  Hopper  drew  up  the  deed  of  purchase,  and 
when  duly  signed  the  black  man  said,  "Zeke  is 
free !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Godwin. 

Not  quite  believing  the  trader,  the  man  turned  to 
Mr.  Hopper  saying,  "  Zeke  is  free,  nobody  can  take 
him,  can  they,   Mr.   Hopper  ? " 

Mr.  Hopper  replied,  "Wherever  Zeke  is,  I  assure 
thee,  he  is  free." 

Thus  assured,  the  negro  made  a  low  bow  towards 
the  ground,  and  with  a  droll  expression  of  counte- 
nance, said,  "  I  hope  you  are  well,  Mr.  Godwin ;  I 
am  happy  to  see  you,  sir.     I  am  Zeke  !  " 

The  trader  seized  Zeke  by  the  collar,  and  began  to 
threaten  and  abuse  him,  whereupon  the  purchaser 
said  quickly:  "  If  you  don't  let  go,  Mr.  Godwin,  I'll 
knock  you  down ;  I  am  a  free  citizen  of  these  United 
States,  and  won't  be  insulted  in  this  way  by  anybody." 

Zeke  was  taken  before  a  magistrate,  who  listened 
to  the  particulars  and  said  to  Godwin,  "Zeke  is  as 
free  as  any  one  in  this  room,  and  you  have  been  out- 
witted." 


No.  14] 


Fugiti 


ves 


59 


14.    The  Ways  of  Fugitives 

By  Rev.  James  Freeman  Clarke  (1850) 

There  were  many  people  in  the  slave  states,  even  ciarke  was 
slave  holders,  who  were  willing  to  secrete  fugitives  if  oneofthe 

mi  •  r  leaders 

paid  enough  for  doing  it.     This  I  learned  from  a  col-  arnong  the 

Boston  aboli- 
tionists. This 
old  woman 
was  Harriet 
Tubman. 


AN  UNDERGROUND  CONDUCTOR. 


ored  woman  who  was  famous  for  having  got  off  many 
fugitives  from  the  South.  She  helped  so  many  hun- 
dreds to  escape  that  they  called  her  "  Moses."     She 


60         Underground  Railroad     [no.  i4 

once  passed  an  evening  at  my  house  and  gave  us  an 
account  of  her  methods.  She  said  she  first  obtained 
enough  money,  then  went  to  Maryland,  where  she 
privately  collected  a  party  of  slaves  and  got  them 
ready  to  start.  She  first  satisfied  herself  that  they 
had  enough  courage  and  firmness  to  run  the  risks. 
She  next  made  arrangements  so  that  they  should  set 
out  on  Saturday  night,  as  there  would  be  no  oppor- 
tunity on  Sunday  for  advertising  them,  and  they 
would  thus  have  that  day's  start  on  their  way  north. 
Then  she  had  places  prepared  where  she  knew  she 
could  be  sure  that  they  could  be  protected  and  taken 
care  of,  if  she  had  the  money  to  pay  for  that  pro- 
tection. 

When  she  was  at  the  North  she  tried  to  raise  funds 
until  she  got  a  certain  amount,  and  then  went  south 
to  carry  out  this  plan.  She  always  paid  some  col- 
ored man  to  follow  after  the  person  who  put  up  the 
posters  advertising  the  runaways,  and  pull  them  down 
as  fast  as  they  were  put  up,  so  that  about  five  minutes 
after  each  was  up  it  was  taken  away.  She  seemed 
to  have  indomitable  courage  herself,  and  a  great  deal 
of  prudence. 

She  told  me  that  once  when  in  Baltimore,  she 
found  a  negro  cook,  a  woman  who  had  suffered  very 
much,  who  had  had  her  children  taken  from  her  and 
sold,  and  who  was  determined  to  escape.  She 
wanted  Moses  to  help  her.  Moses  replied,  "  If  you 
are  willing  to  come  with  me,  I  will  take  you  across 
the  Delaware."  So  they  went  upon  a  steamer  which 
was  to  sail  from  Baltimore  to  Delaware. 

When  they  were  aboard  she  told  the  woman  to 
stay  in  one  part  of  the  boat,  by  one  of  the  outside 
guards,  and  she  herself  went  to  the  clerk  and  asked 


no.  i4]  Fugitives  61 

for  two  tickets  to  the  place  she  wished  to  go.  He 
looked  at  her  and  said,  "  I  do  not  know  whether  we 
can  let  you  have  them.  You  will  have  to  wait  a  little 
while." 

She  went  back  very  much  alarmed.  She  knew 
that  if  there  was  any  investigation  made  it  would  be 
found  that  this  woman  was  a  slave,  and  she  would  be 
seized.  She  went  and  sat  down  by  the  side  of  the 
woman,  and  the  woman  said,  softly,  "  Have  you  got 
the  tickets  ? "  Moses  made  no  reply.  "  I  looked 
straight  at  the  water,"  she  said,  "and  a  great  dark- 
ness came  over  me.  All  at  once  everything  bright- 
ened again,  and  I  saw  a  great  light  which  glowed  all 
over  the  river.  '  Yes,  I  have  got  them  now,  I  am 
sure  of  it,'  I  replied." 

After  a  little  while  the  clerk  came  to  her  and  said, 
"  Here,  Aunty,  are  your  tickets,"  and  she  succeeded 
in  escaping  with  the  woman  through  Delaware  to 
New  Jersey. 

Ellen  Crafts  was  a  very  light  mulatto  woman,  who 
would  easily  pass  for  white.  She  was  nurse  in  a 
family  in  South  Carolina,  and  did  not  think  of  escap- 
ing. She  was  married  to  a  man  darker  than  herself. 
But  on  one  occasion  her  mistress  intended  to  go 
North,  and  wanted  to  take  this  colored  nurse.  Ellen 
Crafts  had  a  little  babe  of  her  own.  She  was  expect- 
ing to  take  her  infant  with  her,  till  her  mistress  said, 
"  You  don't  think  that  I  am  going  to  have  that  child 
with  me.  No,  indeed."  So  the  little  babe  was  left 
behind,  and  died  during  its  mother's  absence. 

When  Ellen  got  home  she  made  up  her  mind  to 
escape.  It  took  her  a  good  while  to  make  her  plans. 
At  last  she  determined  to  disguise  herself  as  a  young 


62  Underground  Railroad     [No.  i4 

Southern  gentleman  and  take  her  husband  as  a  body 
servant.  In  order  that  it  might  not  be  seen  that  she 
had  no  beard  she  professed  to  have  great  suffering 
from  her  teeth,  and  had  a  poultice  put  round  her 
face.  In  order  that  she  might  not  be  asked  to  write 
she  put  her  right  arm  in  a  sling,  as  though  an  in- 
jury had  befallen  it.  So  they  got  off  together  one 
morning. 

They  reached  Baltimore  safely,  although  she  no- 
ticed in  the  train  a  gentleman  who  had  often  seen 
her  at  her  master's  house.  When  she  got  to  Balti- 
more she  had  to  meet  the  difficulty  of  getting  out  of 
a  slave  state  into  a  free  one,  for  which  a  special  pass 
for  her  servant  was  necessary.  She  had  none  of 
course,  but  she  assumed  the  haughty  airs  of  a  South- 
erner, and  when  they  declined  to  give  her  a  ticket  for 
her  servant,  she  said,  "  Why,  what  can  I  do  ?  You 
see  my  arm  ;  you  see  my  face  in  this  condition  !  I 
must  have  him  to  take  care  of  me."  So  by  perse- 
verance she  succeeded,  and  they  arrived  finally  in 
Boston. 

The  master  of  William  Crafts  heard  that  he  was 
in  Boston,  and  sent  on  papers  to  have  him  arrested 
under  the  fugitive  slave  law.  It  was  understood  that 
he  was  to  be  arrested,  and  he  was  prepared  to  defend 
himself.  He  said  he  would  kill  the  United  States 
marshal  if  he  attempted  to  arrest  him. 

Then  it  was  arranged  that  he  should  be  taken  to  the 
house  of  Ellis  Gray  Loring  at  Brookline,  Mass.  Mr. 
Loring  happened  to  be  away,  and  the  honorable  na- 
ture of  Crafts  was  seen  when  he  found  that  Mr.  Lor- 
ing was  not  at  home.  He  asked  to  see  Mrs.  Loring, 
and  said  to  her,  "  I  cannot  stay  when  your  husband  is 
away."     "  Oh,"  said   Mrs.    Loring,   "  Nothing  would 


Nc 


15]  Rescue   of  ferry 


63 


suit  him  better  than  to  have  you  stay."  "That  may 
be  so,"  said  Crafts,  "  but  he  does  not  know  that  I  am 
here,  and  if  anything  bad  happens  to  you  or  to  him, 
I  shall  feel  that  I  have  done  very  wrong."  It  was 
with  difficulty  that  he  was  at  last  persuaded  by  Mrs. 
Loring  to  remain. 


15.    The    Rescue   of  Jerry 

By  Rev.  Samuel  Joseph  May  (1851) 

At  the  meeting  on  the  12th  of  October,  1850,  we 
commenced  an  association  to  co-operate  and  to  bear 
one  another's  burdens  in  defence  of  any  among  us 
who  should  be  arrested  as  slaves.  Many  came  into 
our  agreement.  We  fixed  upon  a  rendezvous,  and 
agreed  that  any  one  of  our  number,  who  might  know 
or  hear  of  a  person  in  danger,  should  toll  the  bell  of 
an  adjoining  meeting-house  in  a  particular  manner, 
and  that,  on  hearing  that  signal,  we  would  all  repair 
at  once  to  the  spot,  ready  to  do  and  to  dare  whatever 
might  seem  to  be  necessary. 

On  the  first  day  of  October,  185 1,  a  real  and, 
as  it  proved  to  be,  a  signal  case  was  given  us. 
Just  as  I  was  about  to  rise  from  my  dinner  on 
that  day  I  heard  the  signal-bell,  and  hurried  towards 
the  appointed  place,  nearly  a  mile  from  my  home. 
But  I  had  not  gone  half-way  before  I  met  the  report 
that  Jerry  McHenry  had  been  claimed  as  a  slave, 
arrested  by  the  police,  and  taken  to  the  office  of  the 
Commissioner.  So  I  turned  my  steps  thither.  The 
nearer  I  got  to  the  place,  the  more  persons  I  met,  all 
excited,  many  of  them  infuriated  by  the  thought  that 
a  man  among  us  was  to  be  carried  away  into  slavery. 


This  was  one 
of  several 
rescues  of 
runaway 
slaves  by 
abolitionists 
from  1850  to 
1858.     Mr. 
May  was  one 
of  the  best 
known  aboli- 
tionists of 
central  New 
York. 


64         Underground  Railroad     [No.  15 

Jerry  was  an  athletic  mulatto,  who  had  been  resid- 
ing in  Syracuse  for  a  number  of  years,  and  working 
quite  expertly,  it  was  said,  as  a  cooper.  I  found  him 
in  the  presence  of  the  Commissioner  with  the  District 
Attorney,  who  was  conducting  the  trial,  —  a  one-sided 
process,  in  which  the  agent  of  the  claimant  alone  was 
to  be  heard  in  proof,  that  the  prisoner  was  an  escaped 
slave,  belonging  to  a  Mr.  Reynolds,  of  Missouri. 
The  doomed  man  was  not  to  be  allowed  to  state  his 
own  case,  nor  refute  the  testimony  of  his  adversary, 
however  false  it  might  be.  While  we  were  attending 
to  the  novel  proceedings,  Jerry,  not  being  closely 
guarded,  slipped  out  of  the  room  under  the  guidance 
of  a  young  man  of  more  zeal  than  discretion,  and 
in  a  moment  was  in  the  street  below.  The  crowd 
cheered  and  made  way  for  him,  but  no  vehicle  having 
been  provided  to  help  his  escape,  he  was  left  to  de- 
pend upon  his  agility  as  a  runner.  Being  manacled, 
he  could  not  do  his  best ;  but  he  had  got  off  nearly 
half  a  mile  before  the  police  officers  and  their  parti- 
sans overtook  him.  I  was  not  there  to  witness  the 
meeting;  but  it  was  said  the  rencounter  was  a  furious 
one.  Jerry  fought  like  a  tiger,  but  fought  against 
overwhelming  odds.  He  was  attacked  behind  and 
before  and  soon  subdued.  He  was  battered  and 
bruised,  and  his  clothes  were  sadly  torn  and  bloody. 

In  this  plight  he  was  thrown  upon  a  carman's 
wagon,  two  policemen  sat  upon  him,  one  across  his 
legs,  the  other  across  his  body,  and  thus  confined  he 
was  brought  down  through  the  centre  of  the  city,  and 
put  into  a  back  room  of  the  police  office,  the  whole 
posse  being  gathered  there  to  guard  him.  The  peo- 
ple, citizens  and  strangers,  were  alike  indignant. 
As  I  passed  amongst  them  I  heard  nothing  but  exe- 


No. 


[5]  Rescue   of  Jerry  65 


crations  and  threats  of  release.  Two  or  three  times 
men  came  to  me  and  said,  "  Mr.  May,  speak  the  word, 
and  we'll  have  Jerry  out."  "  And  what  will  you  do 
with  him,"  I  replied,  "when  you  get  him  out?  You 
have  just  seen  the  bad  effect  of  one  ill-advised  at- 
tempt to  rescue  him.  Wait  until  proper  arrange- 
ments are  made.  Stay  near  here  to  help  at  the  right 
moment  and  in  the  right  way.  In  a  little  while  it 
will  be  quite  dark,  and  then  the  poor  fellow  can  be 
easily  disposed  of." 

Presently  the  Chief  of  Police  came  to  me,  and  said, 
"  Jerry  is  in  a  perfect  rage,  a  fury  of  passion  ;  do 
come  in  and  see  if  you  can  quiet  him."  So  I  followed 
into  the  little  room  where  he  was  confined.  He  was 
indeed  a  horrible  object.  I  was  left  alone  with  him, 
and  sat  down  by  his  side.  So  soon  as  I  could  get 
him  to  hear  me,  I  said,  "  Jerry,  do  try  to  be  calm." 
"  Would  you  be  calm,"  he  roared  out,  "  with  these  irons 
on  you  ?  What  have  I  done  to  be  treated  so  ?  Take 
off  these  handcuffs,  and  then  if  I  do  not  fight  my 
way  through  these  fellows  that  have  got  me  here, — 
then  you  may  make  me  a  slave."  Thus  he  raved  on, 
until  in  a  momentary  interval  I  whispered,  "Jerry, 
we  are  going  to  rescue  you  ;  do  be  more  quiet ! " 
"Who  are  you?"  he  cried.  "How  do  I  know  you 
can  or  will  rescue  me?"  After  awhile  I  told  him 
by  snatches  what  we  meant  to  do,  who  I  was,  and 
how  many  there  were  who  had  come  resolved  to  save 
him  from  slavery.  At  length  he  seemed  to  believe 
me,  became  more  tranquil,  and  consented  to  lie  down, 
so  I  left  him. 

I  went  to  the  office  of  the  late  Dr.  Hiram  Hoyt, 
where  I  found  twenty  or  thirty  picked  men  laying  a 
plan  for  the  rescue.     Among  them  was  Gerrit  Smith, 


66       Underground  Railroad        [no.  i5 

who  happened  to  be  in  town  attending  the  Liberty 
Party  Convention.  It  was  agreed  that  a  skilful  and 
bold  driver  in  a  strong  buggy,  with  the  fleetest  horse 
to  be  got  in  the  city,  should  be  stationed  not  far  off 
to  receive  Jerry,  when  he  should  be  brought  out. 
Then  to  drive  hither  and  thither  about  the  city  until 
he  saw  no  one  pursuing  him ;  not  to  attempt  to  get 
out  of  town,  because  it  was  reported  that  every  exit 
was  well  guarded,  but  to  return  to  a  certain  point 
near  the  centre  of  the  city,  where  he  would  find  two 
men  waiting  to  receive  his  charge ;  with  them  he  was 
to  leave  Jerry,  and  know  nothing  about  the  place  of 
his  retreat. 

At  a  given  signal  the  doors  and  windows  of  the 
police  office  were  to  be  demolished  at  once,  and  the 
rescuers  to  rush  in  and  fill  the  room,  press  around 
and  upon  the  officers,  overwhelming  them  by  their 
numbers,  not  by  blows,  and  so  soon  as  they  were 
confined  and  powerless  by  the  pressure  of  bodies 
about  them,  several  men  were  to  take  up  Jerry  and 
bear  him  to  the  buggy  aforesaid. 

The  plan  laid  down  as  I  have  sketched  it  was  well 
and  quickly  executed,  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing. The  police  office  was  soon  in  our  possession. 
One  officer  in  a  fright  jumped  out  of  a  window  and 
seriously  injured  himself.  Another  officer  fired  a 
pistol  and  slightly  wounded  one  of  the  rescuers. 
With  these  exceptions  there  were  no  personal  injuries. 
The  driver  of  the  buggy  managed  adroitly,  escaped 
all  pursuers,  and  about  nine  o'clock  delivered  Jerry 
into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Jason  S.  Hoyt  and  Mr.  James 
Davis.  They  led  him  not  many  steps  to  the  house  of 
the  late  Caleb  Davis,  who  with  his  wife  promptly  con- 
sented to  give  the  poor  fellow  a  shelter  in  their  house. 


No.   i6j 


Pass  Him  On 


67 


It  was  generally  supposed  he  had  gone  to  Canada. 
But  the  next  Sunday  evening,  just  after  dark,  a  cov- 
ered wagon  with  a  span  of  very  fleet  horses  was  seen 
standing  for  a  few  minutes  near  the  door  of  Mr. 
Caleb  Davis's  house.  Mr.  Jason  S.  Hoyt  and  Mr. 
James  Davis  were  seen  to  help  a  somewhat  infirm 
man  into  the  vehicle,  jump  in  themselves,  and  start 
off  at  a  rapid  rate.  Suspicion  was  awakened,  and 
several  of  the  "  patriots  "  of  our  city  set  off  in  pursuit 
of  the  "traitors."  The  chase  was  a  hot  one  for  eight 
or  ten  miles,  but  Jerry's  deliverers  had  the  advantage 
on  the  start,  and  in  the  speed  of  the  horses  that  were 
bearing  him  to  liberty. 

He  was  conveyed  to  the  house  of  a  Mr.  Clarke, 
on  the  confines  of  the  city  of  Oswego :  it  was  not 
until  several  days  had  elapsed  that  Mr.  Clarke  was 
able  to  find  one  who  would  undertake  to  transport  a 
fugitive  slave  over  the  lake.  At  length  the  captain 
of  a  small  craft  agreed  to  set  sail  after  dark.  Mr. 
Clarke  took  Jerry  to  a  less  frequented  part  of  the 
shore,  embarked  with  him  in  a  small  boat,  and  rowed 
him  to  the  little  schooner  of  the  friendly  captain. 
By  him  he  was  taken  to  Kingston,  Canada,  where  he 
soon  was  established  again  in  the  business  of  a  cooper. 


In  Canada 
no  person 
could  be  held 
as  a  slave ; 
and  therefore 
fugitives  were 
safe  there. 


16.    Pass  Him  On 

By  H.  G.  Adams  (1854) 

Pass  him  on  !     Pass  him  on  ! 
Another  soul  from  slavery  won  ; 
Another  man  erect  to  stand 
Fearless  of  the  scourge  and  brand ; 


68  Underground  Railroad      [No.  ie 

Another  face  now  lifted  up, 
Lips  that  drink  not  sorrow's  cup  ; 
Eyes  no  longer  dimmed  by  tears, 
Breath  no  longer  filled  with  fears; 
Limbs  that  have  no  galling  chain 
Their  free  motions  to  restrain ; 
Back  no  longer  bowed  and  scored, 
But  with  birthright  now  restored, 

He  that  late  the  burden  bore 
Felt  the  lash  and  pangs  untold, 

To  be  chattelised  no  more, 

Bartered,  given,  bought  or  sold  — 
Pass  him  on  ! 

Pass  him  on  !     Pass  him  on  ! 
Though  his  foes  be  legion  ; 
Though  the  bloodhounds  on  his  track, 
Yelling,  strive  to  bring  him  back ; 
Though  man-hunters  from  the  south 
Threat  you  with  the  pistol's  mouth, 
And  the  federative  law 
Would  your  spirits  overawe. 
Heed  them  not  —  imprisonment ! 
Take  it,  and  be  well  content ; 
Heed  them  not ;  endure  the  fine ; 
Grow,  through  sacrifice  divine ; 

Do  as  you'd  be  done  unto, 
Careless  of  the  consequence  ; 

Keep  the  higher  law  in  view ; 
Heed  not  ruffian  violence. 
Pass  him  on  ! 

Pass  him  on  !     Pass  him  on  ! 
Let  him  lie  your  couch  upon  ; 


no.  16]  Pass  Him  On  69 

Give  him  raiment,  give  him  food, 
Give  him  kindly  words  and  good  ; 
Watch  and  guard  his  hours  of  rest ; 
Hide  him  from  the  searcher's  quest. 
Through  the  city  wrapped  in  sleep, 
O'er  the  river  broad  and  deep, 
By  the  farmstead,  through  the  vale, 
Lighted  by  the  moonbeams  pale ; 
O'er  the  prairie  wild  and  wide, 
Where  the  red  men  still  abide 

(Hunters  these,  but  not  of  slaves  — 
Far  more  merciful  than  they); 

Storms  and  tempests,  winds  and  waves, 
Nought  the  fugitives  must  stay. 
Pass  him  on  ! 

Pass  him  on  !     Pass  him  on ! 
Crime  hath  he  committed  none. 
Would  you  have  him  grovelling  lie 
In  the  bonds  of  slavery  ? 
Nobler  far  to  rend  in  twain 
And  throw  off  the  yoke  and  chain  ; 
Nobler  through  the  darkness  grim, 
Dangers  thick  besetting  him, 
Freedom  thus  to  seek  in  flight, 
'Scaping  from  the  gloom  of  night 
Unto  freedom's  glorious  morn  ;" 
From  the  darkness  to  the  dawn 

Leapeth  he  o'er  chasms  wide. 

Help  him  all  who  help  him  can, 
God  the  north  star  for  his  guide 

Giveth  every  fellow-man  — 
Pass  him  on  ! 


OF  THE 

JNIVERSITY 

OF 


JOHN    BROWN. 


No.   17] 


John  B 


rown  s 


Raid 


71 


17.    John    Brown's    Raid 

By  Captain  Dangerfield  (1859) 

I  walked  toward  my  office,  then  just  within  the 
armory  enclosure,  and  not  more  than  a  hundred  yards 
from  my  house.  As  I  proceeded,  I  saw  a  man  come 
out  of  an  alley,  then  another,  and  another,  all  coming 
towards  me.  I  inquired  what  all  this  meant;  they 
said,  "  Nothing,  only  they  had  taken  possession  of 
the  Government  works."  I  told  them  they  talked 
like  crazy  men.  They  at  once  cocked  their  guns  and 
told  me  I  was  a  prisoner.  I  then  asked  what  they 
intended  to  do  with  me.  They  said  I  was  in  no  per- 
sonal danger ;  they  only  wanted  to  carry  me  to  their 
captain,  John  Smith.  I  asked  them  where  Captain 
Smith  was.  They  answered,  at  the  guard  house,  inside 
the  armory  enclosure.     I  told  them  I  would  go  there. 

Upon  reaching  the  gate,  I  saw  what  indeed  looked 
like  war  —  negroes  armed  with  pikes,  and  sentinels 
with  muskets  all  around.  Up  to  this  time  the  citi- 
zens had  hardly  begun  to  move  about,  and  knew 
nothing  of  the  raid.  When  they  learned  what  was 
going  on,  some  came  out  with  old  shot  guns,  and 
were  themselves  shot  by  concealed  men.  All  the 
stores,  as  well  as  the  arsenal,  were  in  the  hands  of 
Brown's  men,  and  it  was  impossible  to  get  either  arms 
or  ammunition,  for  there  were  hardly  any  private 
weapons.  At  last,  however,  a  few  arms  were  ob- 
tained, and  a  body  of  citizens  crossed  the  river  and 
advanced  from  the  Maryland  side.  They  made  a 
vigorous  attack,  and  in  a  few  minutes  caused  all  the 
invaders  who  were  not  killed  to  retreat  to  Brown 
inside  of  the  armory  gate. 


John  Brown 
had  been  en- 
gaged in  the 
civil  war  in 
Kansas  in 
1856;  and 
was  noted  for 
helping 
slaves  to  steal 
themselves. 
In  1859,  with 
seventeen 
men,  he  cap- 
tured the 
government 
arsenal  at 
Harper's 
Ferry,  Vir- 
ginia, and 
tried  to  raise 
the  neighbor- 
ing slaves. 


7  2  Underground  Railroad      [No.  i7 

Then  commenced  a  terrible  firing  from  without,  at 
every  point  from  which  the  windows  could  be  seen, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  every  window  was  shattered, 
and  hundreds  of  balls  came  through  the  doors. 
These  shots  were  answered  from  within  whenever 
the  attacking  party  could  be  seen.  This  was  kept 
up  most  of  the  day,  and,  strange  to  say,  not  a  pris- 
oner was  hurt,  though  thousands  of  balls  were  im- 
bedded in  the  walls,  and  holes  shot  in  the  doors 
almost  large  enough  for  a  man  to  creep  through. 
At  night  the  firing  ceased,  for  we  were  in  total 
darkness,  and  nothing  could  be  seen  in  the  engine- 
house. 

During  the  day  and  night  I  talked  much  with 
Brown.  I  found  him  as  brave  as  a  man  could  be, 
and  sensible  upon  all  subjects  except  slavery.  He 
believed  it  was  his  duty  to  free  the  slaves,  even  if  in 
doing  so  he  lost  his  own  life.  During  a  sharp  fight, 
one  of  Brown's  sons  was  killed.  He  fell ;  then  try- 
ing to  raise  himself,  he  said,  "  It  is  all  over  with  me," 
and  died  instantly.  Brown  did  not  leave  his  post 
at  the  porthole  ;  but  when  the  fighting  was  over  he 
walked  to  his  son's  body,  straightened  out  his  limbs, 
took  off  his  trappings,  and  then,  turning  to  me,  said, 
"This  is  the  third  son  I  have  lost  in  this  cause." 
Another  son  had  been  shot  in  the  morning,  and 
was  then  dying,  having  been  brought  in  from  the 
street. 

The  firing  was  kept  up  by  our  men  all  day  and 
until  late  at  night,  and  during  that  time  several  of 
Brown's  men  were  killed,  but  none  of  the  prisoners 
were  hurt,  though  they  were  often  in  great  danger. 
When  Colonel  Lee  came  with  the  government  troops 
in  the  night,  he  at  once  sent  a  flag  of  truce  by  his 


No. 


17]         John  Brown  s  Raid  73 


aid,  J.  E.  B.  Stuart,  to  notify  Brown  of  his  arrival, 
and  in  the  name  of  the  United  States  to  demand  his 
surrender,  advising  him  to  throw  himself  on  the 
clemency  of  the  government.  Brown  declined  to 
accept  Colonel  Lee's  terms,  and  determined  to  await 
the  attack. 

When  Stuart  had  gone,  Brown  at  once  proceeded 
to  barricade  the  doors,  windows,  etc.,  endeavoring  to 
make  the  place  as  strong  as  possible.  All  this  time 
no  one  of  Brown's  men  showed  the  least  fear,  but 
calmly  awaited  the  attack,  selecting  the  best  situa- 
tions to  fire  from,  and  arranging  their  guns  and  pis- 
tols so  that  a  fresh  one  could  be  taken  up  as  soon  as 
one  was  discharged. 

When  Lieutenant  Stuart  came  in  the  morning  for 
the  final  reply  to  the  demand  to  surrender,  I  got  up 
and  went  to  Brown's  side  to  hear  his  answer.  Stuart 
asked,  "Are  you  ready  to  surrender,  and  trust  to  the 
mercy  of  the  government?  "  Brown  answered,  "No, 
I  prefer  to  die  here."  His  manner  did  not  betray 
the  least  alarm.  Stuart  stepped  aside  and  made  a 
signal  for  the  attack,  which  was  instantly  begun  with 
sledge  hammers  to  break  down  the  door.  Finding  it 
would  not  yield,  the  soldiers  seized  a  long  ladder  for 
a  battering  ram,  and  commenced  beating  the  door 
with  that,  the  party  firing  incessantly.  I  had  assisted 
in  the  barricading,  fixing  the  fastenings  so  that  I 
could  remove  them  on  the  first  effort  to  get  in.  But 
I  was  not  at  the  door  when  the  battering  began,  and 
could  not  get  to  the  fastenings  till  the  ladder  was 
used.  I  then  quickly  removed  the  fastenings,  and, 
after  two  or  three  strokes  of  the  ladder,  the  engine 
rolled  partially  back,  making  a  small  aperture,  through 
which    Lieutenant  Green  of  the  Marines  forced  his 


74       Underground  Railroad        [No.  i7 

way,  jumped  on  top  of  the  engine,  and  stood  a  second, 
amidst  a  shower  of  balls,  looking  for  John  Brown. 

When  he  saw  Brown  he  sprang  about  twelve  feet 
at  him,  giving  an  under  thrust  of  his  sword,  striking 
Brown  about  midway  the  body,  and  raising  him  com- 
pletely from  the  ground.  Brown  fell  forward  with 
his  head  between  his  knees,  while  Green  struck  him 
several  times  over  the  head,  and,  as  I  then  supposed, 
split  his  skull  at  every  stroke.  I  was  not  two  feet 
from  Brown  at  that  time. 

Of  course  I  got  out  of  the  building  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, and  did  not  know  till  some  time  later  that 
Brown  was  not  killed.  It  seems  that  Green's  sword, 
in  making  the  thrust,  struck  Brown's  belt,  and  did 
not  penetrate  the  body.  The  sword  was  bent  double. 
The  reason  that  Brown  was  not  killed  when  struck 
on  the  head  was,  that  Green  was  holding  his  sword 
in  the  middle,  striking  with  the  hilt,  and  making  only 
scalp  wounds.    ■ 

After  some  controversy  between  the  United  States 
and  the  state  of  Virginia,  as  to  which  had  jurisdiction 
over  the  prisoners,  Brown  was  carried  to  the  Charles- 
ton jail,  and  after  a  fair  trial  was  hanged.  Of  course 
I  was  a  witness  at  the  trial,  and  I  must  say  have 
never  seen  any  man  display  more  courage  and  forti- 
tude than  John  Brown  showed  under  the  trying  cir- 
cumstances in  which  he  was  placed.  I  could  not  go 
to  see  him  hanged.  He  had  made  me  a  prisoner, 
but  had  spared  my  life  and  that  of  other  gentlemen 
in  his  power;  and  when  his  sons  were  shot  down 
beside  him,  almost  any  other  man  similarly  placed 
would  at  least  have  exacted  life  for  life. 


no.  18]  Battle   Hymn  j  $ 

1 8.     Battle-hymn   of  the    Republic 

By  Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe  (1866) 

Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the  coming  of  the 

Lord ; 
He  is  trampling  out  the  vintage  where  the  grapes  of 

wrath  are  stored ; 
He  hath  loosed  the  fateful  lightning  of  His  terrible 

swift  sword : 

His  truth  is  marching  on. 

I  have  seen  Him  in  the  watchfires  of  a  hundred  cir- 
cling camps ; 

They  have  builded  Him  an  altar  in  the  evening  dews 
and  damps  ; 

I  have  read  His  righteous  sentence  by  the  dim  and 
flaring  lamps : 

His  day  is  marching  on. 

I  have  read  a  fiery  gospel  writ  in  burnished  rows  of 

steel : 
"  As  ye  deal  with   my  contemners,   so  with  you  my 

grace  shall  deal ; 
Let  the  Hero,  born  of  woman,  crush  the  serpent  with 

his  heel, 

Since  God  is  marching  on." 

He  has  sounded  forth  the  trumpet  that  shall  never 
call  retreat ; 

He  is  sifting  out  the  hearts  of  men  before  His  judg- 
ment-seat ; 

Oh  !  be  swift,  my  soul,  to  answer  Him  !  be  jubilant, 
my  feet ! 

Our  God  is  marching  on. 


76  Underground  Railroad     [No.  19 

In  the  beauty  of  the  lilies  Christ  was  born  across  the 

sea, 
With  a  glory  in  His  bosom  that  transfigures  you  and 

me  ; 
As  He  died  to  make  men   holy,  let  us  die  to  make 

men  free, 

While  God  is  marching  on. 


Miss  Botume 
was  a  teacher 
of  the  ne- 
groes who 
had  just  been 
freed,  and 
saw  them  as 
they  came 
out  of  slav- 
ery. 


19.    Refugees  from  Slavery 

By  Elizabeth  Hyde  Botume  (1862) 

The  reports  of  the  expeditions  to  bring  off  the 
slaves,  as  given  by  the  officers  of  the  gunboats  and 
by  the  contrabands  themselves,  were  often  touching 
and  amusing  in  the  extreme. 

An  overseer  on  one  of  the  plantations  ran  into  the 
house  when  he  heard  the  boats  were  in  sight,  and 
excitedly  called  all  the  negroes  together,  saying, 
"  The  Yankees  are  coming  !  The  Yankees  are  com- 
ing !  The  gunboats  are  down  the  river.  You  must 
all  keep  out  of  sight.  Don't  let  them  see  you.  If 
they  land  near  here,  cut  and  run  and  hide  where 
nobody  can  find  you.  If  they  catch  you  they  will 
sell  you  to  New  Orleans  or  Cuba !  " 

"  Never  fear.  We'll  run  sure.  We'll  run  so  de 
Debil  hisself  couldn't  catch  we  !  "  they  all  exclaimed. 

"  Don't  you  worry,  Massa  Jim,"  said  the  old  cook. 
"  We  all  hear  'bout  dem  Yankees.  Folks  tell  we  they 
has  horns  an'  a  tail.  I  is  mighty  skeery  myself,  an' 
I  has  all  my  t'ings  pick  up,  an'  w'en  I  see  dem  com- 
ing I  shall  run  like  all  possess'." 

"  Well,  I  am  going  to  the  main,  and  I  leave  all  here 
in  your  care,"  said  the  overseer  as  he  rode  off. 


No.  19] 


Refugees 


11 


"  Good-by,  ole  man,  good-by.  That's  right*  Ske- 
daddle as  fas'  as  you  kin,"  said  the  negroes  as  the 
white  man  disappeared.  "  When  you  cotch  we  ag'in,  I 
'specs  you'll  know  it.  We's  gwine  to  run  sure  enough  ; 
but  we  knows  the  Yankees,  an'  we  runs  that  way." 

As  the  boats  ascended  the  river,  crowds  of  poor 
colored  people  were  seen  in  some  places  huddled 
together,  or  scattered  along  the  shores,  screaming  and 


THE   CONTRABAND'S    HOME. 


gesticulating  in  the  wildest  manner.  Some  of  the 
more  daring,  leaped  into  the  water,  trying  to  wade  or 
swim  to  the  boats  before  they  were  landed. 

When  the  gunboats  touched  the  shore,  the  news 
spread  like  wildfire.  Men,  women,  and  children 
rushed  frantically  to  them,  begging  to  be  taken  on 
board.  There  was  a  curious  mixture  of  hope  and 
fear  amongst  these  wretched  creatures. 


78  Underground  Railroad     [No.  19 

All  the  white  people  on  the  plantations  had  left 
precipitately  for  the  interior  of  the  State,  taking  with 
them  as  many  of  their  servants  as  posisble,  and  leav- 
ing the  rest  to  their  fate.  On  some  of  the  places  all 
the  strong  and  able-bodied  slaves  had  been  carried 
"  up  country"  by  their  masters,  and  only  the  weak 
and  decrepit  had  been  left  behind. 

In  this  general  stampede  for  the  boats,  of  course 
the  youngest  and  strongest  were  first  on  board. 
Those  still  on  shore  begged  so  piteously  to  be  taken 
care  of,  that  they  were  put  in  the  guard-house  for 
safe  keeping.  When  order  was  a  little  restored,  an 
officer  walked  past  the  guard-house,  and,  looking  in 
upon  the  crowd  there,  said,  "  Well,  what  are  you  all 
about?" 

"  Dat's  jes'  what  we'd  like  ter  fin'  out,  massa,"  said 
one  of  them. 

Some  sad  scenes  were  witnessed.  Mothers  were 
separated  from  their  children,  and  "  old  parents" 
were  overlooked.  These  poor  creatures,  on  the 
remote  plantations  of  distant  islands,  had  been  in  the 
most  abject  fear  for  a  long  time.  Now  those  who 
had  reached  what  seemed  to  them  safety  were  wild 
with  delight,  and  immediately  began  their  jubilant 
shouting  songs.  But  those  left  behind  unprotected, 
ran  along  the  shore  and  even  rushed  into  the  water, 
uttering  the  most  heartrending  moans  and  wait- 
ings, which  continued  until  the  boat  was  out  of  sight 
and  sound. 

Many  grotesque  scenes  were  also  witnessed.  When 
the  government  steamer  John  Adams  anchored  at 
one  of  the  plantations,  the  negroes  rushed  along, 
carrying  every  conceivable  thing  on  their  heads  that 
could  possibly  be  placed  there,  —  clothing,  blankets, 


No.  19]  Refugees  79 

tubs,  pots,  kettles,  pigs,  and  chickens.  One  old  man 
had  his  sick  wife  on  his  back,  and  a  half-grown  boy 
had  his  blind  daddy,  toting  him  along  "  to  freedom." 
A  huge  negress  was  seen  striding  along  with  her 
hominy  pot,  in  which  was  a  live  chicken,  poised  on 
her  head.  One  child  was  on  her  back,  with  its  arms 
tightly  clasped  around  her  neck,  and  its  feet  about 
her  waist,  and  under  each  arm  was  a  smaller  child. 
Her  apron  was  tucked  up  in  front,  evidently  filled 
with  articles  of  clothing.  Her  feet  were  bare,  and  in 
her  mouth  was  a  short  clay  pipe.  A  poor  little  yel- 
low dog  ran  by  her  side,  and  a  half-grown  pig  trotted 
on  before. 

Another  woman  staggered  along  under  a  large, 
rice-straw  bed  and  her  blankets.  A  man  had  a 
heavy  box-coop  filled  with  fowls.  Innumerable  were 
the  pathetic  and  ludicrous  stories  told  by  officers  and 
men,  of  scenes  which  they  witnessed  on  these  expe- 
ditions. 

When  all  these  people  were  brought  to  Beaufort, 
the  town  was  full  to  overflowing.  They  were  quar- 
tered in  every  available  place,  and  packed  as  closely 
as  possible, — in  churches  and  storehouses,  and  in 
the  jail  and  arsenals.  Most  of  the  negro  quarters 
had  been  taken  possession  of  by  the  slaves  who 
formerly  lived  on  the  island,  and  who  had  fled  from 
their  old  masters  on  the  mainland,  back  to  their 
homes.  Gangs  of  these  poor  refugees  were  sent  to 
different  plantations,  until  there  was  shelter  for  no 
more.  There  was  still  a  great  throng  houseless,  with 
no  resting-place.  Tents  were  put  up  for  them  until 
barracks  could  be  built  outside  the  town,  of  which 
Montgomery  District  was  one. 


80  Underground  Railroad     [No.  20 

20.    A  Quick-witted  Negro 

By  George   Henry  Gordon  (1863) 

General  Gor-  An  incident  that  occurred  at  this  time  showed  what 

a°h '  °etraSS"  f°lty  ft  would  be  to  discourage  the  negroes  from  es- 

describes' his  caping  to  our  lines,  and  thereby  reject  their  sometimes 

own  experi-  valuable  assistance.     Colonel  Burr  Porter,  of  the  For- 

ences  in  the  ,       ,  .  _  ,       .. 

field.  tieth.  Massachusetts  Regiment,  had  sent  a  negro  scout 

to  the  front,  where  he  was  making  his  way  along  a 
thickly  wooded  road,  intent  on  avoiding  everybody, 
when  he  came  so  suddenly  upon  a  Dr.  Richards,  — 
a  notorious  Rebel,  —  that  his  only  mode  of  escape 
was  by  his  heels.  Suspecting  the  darkey's  movements, 
the  doctor  called  to  him  to  stop,  firing  his  pistol  at 
him  at  the  same  time  to  enforce  his  order.  Fortu- 
nately the  scout  was  not  hit,  and  fled  all  the  faster, 
until  he  gained  a  thicket,  into  which  he  plunged,  run- 
ning and  scrambling  until,  breathless  and  exhausted, 
he  fell  suddenly  into  the  hands  of  a  squad  of  Rebel 
infantry.  Escape  now  was  hopeless  ;  his  only  source 
was  in  his  wits.  Gasping  for  breath,  he  utilized  his 
first  pursuer  most  effectually  by  crying  out,  "  Don't 
stop  me  !  Dr.  Richards  sent  me  to  tell  you  that  the 
Yankees  are  coming  on  your  flank,  with  a  large  col- 
umn of  men  ;  and  he  wants  me,  after  telling  you  this 
to  go  down  on  your  other  flank,  and  tell  some  of  your 
pickets  there  to  look  out."  The  other  flank  was  in 
the  direction  of  our  front,  where  he  would  be  safe  if 
those  who  held  him  only  believed  he  was  telling  the 
truth. 

Fortunately  the  message  he  bore  was  an  urgent 
one ;  the  occasion  did  not  admit  of  prolonged  discus- 
sion, though  it  was  long  enough  to  make  the  poor 


no.  20]         ^uick-witted  Negro  8 1 

fellow's  heart  throb  with  apprehension.  For  a  few 
moments  the  scout's  fate  trembled  in  the  balance. 
So  well,  however,  did  he  conceal  the  struggle  within 
himself,  that  when  he  was  bidden  to  go  ahead  and 
give  his  message,  he  could  detect  no  doubts  within 
his  captors.  But  joy  so  overcame  the  man  at  his  un- 
expected good  fortune,  that  when  he  sprang  forward, 
he  did  so  with  an  alertness  that  for  the  first  time 
roused  suspicions  in  a  Rebel  sergeant  that  all  was  not 
right;  and  he  called  to  him  to  stop.  There  was  but 
one  hope  now,  and  that  was  flight.  The  scout  acted 
so  energetically  upon  this  conviction  that  he  escaped 
unhurt,  though  a  bullet  passed  through  his  hat ;  and 
he  brought  to  us  the  information  that  a  regiment  of 
Rebel  infantry  last  night  crossed  the  Mattapony  to 
the  peninsula,  and  was  now  within  seven  miles  of  my 
outposts.  I  thought  this  poor  negro  had  proved  his 
right  to  possess  the  freedom  to  use  for  his  own  ad- 
vancement those  talents  and  faculties  which  he  had 
made  so  serviceable  to  us. 

The  29th  of  May  increased  my  stock  of  negroes  by 
fourteen,  —  old  and  young,  crippled  and  able-bodied, 

—  all  of  whom  had  escaped  from  the  clutches  of  slave- 
masters.  From  them  all  I  secured  much  valuable  in- 
formation. One  facetious  old  woman  lamented  the  loss 
of  flour,  corn-meal,  and  meat,  which  she  had  been 
obliged  to  leave  behind  ;  she  feared  they  might  fall  into 
Rebel  hands,  and  thus  make  them  a  little  less  hungry. 
She  asked  that  my  troops  and  gunboats  might  make 
a  special  trip  to  her  domain  to  bring  away  her  edibles, 

—  urging  as  a  bait  that  I  might  capture  some  Rebel 
pickets  who  were  lying  in  wait  to  catch  me. 

Representing  the  Rebel  pickets  as  quite  vigilant, 
though  entertaining  a  wholesome  dread  of  gunboats, 

G 


8  2       Underground  Railroad         [No.  20 

she  thought  she  could  so  direct  the  fire  of  our  guns 
"  dat  some  of  dose  big  shells'll  hit  'em,  —  dough  dey 
say  if  you'se  all  cum  up  dey  gwine  to  climb  trees  to 
'vade  your  boat.  I  knows  dey  will  clar  if  you  fire  at 
'em.  And,  oh  lordy,  won't  dey  run  and  sweep  away 
all  de  black  folks  to  Richmond !  Took  my  son  dis 
morning.  '  Cum  up  ! '  dey  say  to  him  ;  '  you  har  ?  go 
long  !  won't  hab  you  telling  Yankees  eb'ryting.'  "  My 
stock  of  females  has  so  largely  increased,  that  I  fear 
very  much  for  the  peace  of  mind  of  Old  Bob,  —  Cap- 
tain Scott's  servant,  a  venerable  darkey  of  more  years 
than  he  knows,  who,  when  asked  if  he  was  a  hundred, 
replied,  "  Spec's  I  am,  sir."  While  the  captain  was 
at  Washington  recovering  from  his  Chancellorsville 
wound,  Old  Bob  said  to  the  captain,  "  I  'fraid  some 
dose  darkeys  make  me  marry  'em."  But  Bob  escaped, 
and  recalled  a  former  charmer,  to  whom,  though  she 
wouldn't  "  put  her  name  on  de  paper  [a  contract  of 
marriage]  when  I  was  dar,"  he  caused  a  letter  to  be 
written.  This  he  brought  to  the  captain  with  the 
request,  "  Back  dat,  sir,  ef  you  please  "  [direct  it]. 

"  To  whom  ?  "    asked  the  captain. 

"  Well,"  —  in  some  confusion,  —  "  put  my  name  on 
it." 

"  But  that  won't  reach  any  one  !  To  whom  do  you 
wish  to  send  it  ?  " 

"Wy,  to  Em'ly!" 

"  Emily  who?" 

"  I  dunno,  sir  !  " 

"  Where  is  she  ?  " 

"  Wy,  dar  in  Washington  !  " 

"Where's  'dar'?" 

"Wy,  Sandy  Bill;  he  know!  "  So  the  letter  went 
to  "  Emily,   care  of    Sandy  Bill,  care  of   Mr.  J.  W. 


no.  21]  Soldiers"    Song  8  3 

Rodgers,  Washington,"  —  the  latter  being. the  name 
of  an  officer  whom  Bob  had  attended  during  the  cap- 
tain's recovery. 


21.    Song  for  our  Soldiers 

Oh  !  for  the  Union,  boys  ! 
Ho  !  for  the  Union,  boys  : 
Go  for  the  Union,  boys, 

Heart,  hand,  and  gun. 
Shoulder  to  shoulder,  boys, 
Younger  and  older,  boys, 
Bolder  and  bolder,  boys, 

Every  mother's  son ! 


Where  you  find  the  white  men, 
Union-hating  white  men, 
Ribald  rabble  white  men, 

Let  your  cannon  play. 
Where  you  find  the  black  men, 
Union-loving  black  men, 
True  and  loyal  black  men, 

Let  'em  run  away  ! 
Break  off  their  chains,  boys ! 
Strike  off  their  chains,  boys ! 
Knock  off  their  chains,  boys, 

And  let  'em  run  away. 

Oh  !  for  the  Union,  boys  ! 
Ho  !  for  the  Union,  boys  : 
Go  for  the  Union,  boys, 
Heart,  hand,  and  sword. 


84       Underground  Railroad        [No.  22 

Shoulder  to  shoulder,  boys, 
Bolder  and  bolder,  boys, 
Younger  and  older,  boys, 
Trusting  in  the  Lord. 

Where  you  find  the  white  men, 
Union-hating  white  men, 
Ribald  rabble  white  men, 

Let  your  cannon  play  ! 
Where  you  find  the  black  men, 
Union-loving  black  men, 
True  and  loyal  black  men, 

Let  'em  run  away. 
Break  off  their  chains,  boys  ! 
Strike  off  their  chains,  boys  ! 
Knock  off  their  chains,  boys, 

And  let  'em  run  away ! 


22.    Scenes    in   Savannah 

By  Charles  Carleton   Coffin  (1864) 

Mr.  Coffin  As  I  intended  to  spend  some  days  in  Savannah,  I 

was  a  news-     SQ^  ou^.  one  afternoon  in  search  of  lodgings  more  corn- 
paper  corre-  <?     <=> 

spondentand  modious  than  those  furnished  at  the  Pulaski  House, 
had  many  anc[  [  was  directed  to.  a  house  owned  by  a  gentleman 
ofseeing1  ' S  who,  during  the  war,  had  resided  in  Paris,  —  a  large 
things  as  they  brick  mansion,  fronting  on  one  of  the  squares,  ele- 
gantly finished  and  furnished.  It  had  been  taken 
care  of,  through  the  war,  by  two  faithful  negroes, 
Robert  and  his  wife,  Aunt  Nellie,  both  of  them  slaves. 
I  rang  the  bell,  and  was  ushered  into  the  basement 
by  their  daughter  Ellen,  also  a  slave.     Robert  was 


were. 


no.  22]  Scenes  in  Savannah 


85 


fifty-three  years  of  age,  —  a  tall,  stout,  coal-black, 
slow-spoken,  reflective  man.  Aunt  Nellie  was  a  year 
or  two  younger.  Her  features  were  of  the  African 
type  ;  her  eyes  large  and  lustrous.  Her  deportment 
was    lady-like,    her   language    refined.     She    wore  a 


A    SLAVE   MOTHER. 


gingham  dress,  and  a  white  turban.  Ellen,  the 
daughter,  had  a  fair  countenance,  regular  features,  of 
lighter  hue  than  either  father  or  mother.  She  ap- 
peared as  much  at  ease  as  most  young  ladies  who  are 
accustomed  to  the  amenities  of  society.  Aunt  Nellie 
called  me  by  name. 


86         Underground  Railroad     [No.  22 

"  I  saw  you  yesterday  at  church,"  she  said. 

She  placed  a  chair  for  me  before  the  fire,  which 
burned  cheerfully  on  the  hearth.  There  was  a  vase 
of  amaranths  on  the  mantel,  and  lithographs  on  the 
walls.  A  clock  ticked  in  one  corner.  There  were 
cushioned  arm-chairs.  The  room  was  neat  and  tidy, 
and  had  an  air  of  cheerfulness.  A  little  boy,  four 
or  five  years  old,  was  sitting  by  the  side  of  Aunt 
Nellie,  —  her  grand-nephew.  He  looked  up  wonder- 
ingly  at  the  stranger,  then  gazed  steadily  into  the  fire 
with  comical  gravity. 

"You  are  from  Boston,  I  understand,"  said  Aunt 
Nellie.  "  I  never  have  been  to  Boston,  but  I  have 
been  to  New  York  several  times  with  my  master." 

"  Did  you  have  any  desire  to  stay  North  ?  " 

"No,  sir,  I  can't  say  that  I  had.  This  was  my 
home;  my  children  and  friends,  and  my  husband 
were  all  here." 

"  But  did  you  not  wish  to  be  free  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  very  different  thing,  sir.  God  only 
knows  how  I  longed  to  be  free  ;  but  my  master  was 
very  kind.  They  used  to  tell  me  in  New  York  that  I 
could  be  free ;  but  I  couldn't  make  up  my  mind  to 
leave  master,  and  my  husband.  Perhaps  if  I  had 
been  abused  as  some  of  my  people  have,  I  should 
have  thought  differently  about  it." 

"  Well,  you  are  free  now.  I  suppose  that  you  never 
expected  to  see  such  a  day  as  this !  " 

"  I  can't  say  that  I  expected  to  see  it,  but  I  knew  it 
would  come.  I  have  prayed  for  it.  I  didn't  hardly 
think  it  would  come  in  my  time,  but  I  knew  it  must 
come,  for  God  is  just." 

"  Did  you  not  sometimes  despair  ?  " 

"  Never  !  sir;  never  !     But  O,  it  has  been  a  terrible 


no.  22]         Scenes  in  Savannah  87 

mystery,  to  know  why  the  good  Lord  should  so  long 
afflict  my  people,  and  keep  them  in  bondage,  —  to  be 
abused,  and  trampled  down,  without  any  rights  of 
their  own,  —  with  no  ray  of  light  in  the  future.  Some 
of  my  folks  said  there  wasn't  any  God,  for  if  there 
was  he  wouldn't  let  white  folks  do  as  they  have  done 
for  so  many  years ;  but  I  told  them  to  wait,  —  and 
now  they  see  what  they  have  got  by  waiting.  I  told 
them  that  we  were  all  of  one  blood,  —  white  folks  and 
black  folks  all  come  from  one  man  and  one  woman, 
and  that  there  was  only  one  Jesus  for  all.  I  knew  it, 
—  I  knew  it !  "  She  spoke  as  if  it  were  an  indispu- 
table fact  which  had  come  by  intuition. 

Here  Aunt  Nellie's  sister  and  her  husband  came 
in. 

"  I  hope  to  make  your  better  acquaintance,"  she 
said,  courtesying.  It  is  a  common  form  of  expres- 
sion among  the  colored  people  of  some  parts  of  the 
South.  She  was  larger,  taller,  and  stouter  than  Aunt 
Nellie,  younger  in  years,  less  refined,  —  a  field  hand, 
- —  one  who  had  drunk  deeply  of  the  terrible  cup  which 
slavery  had  held  to  her  lips.  She  wore  a  long  gray 
dress  of  coarse  cloth,  — a  frock  with  sleeves,  gathered 
round  the  neck  with  a  string,  —  the  cheapest  possible 
contrivance  for  a  dress,  her  only  garment,  I  judged. 

"These  are  new  times  to  you,"  I  said. 

"  It  is  a  dream,  sir,  —  a  dream  !  'Pears  like  I  don't 
know  where  I  am.  When  General  Sherman  come  and 
said  we  were  free,  I  didn't  believe  it,  and  I  wouldn't 
believe  it  till  the  minister  told  us  that  we  were  free. 
It  don't  seem  as  if  I  was  free,  sir."  She  looked  into 
the  fire  a  moment,  and  sat  as  if  in  a  dream,  but 
roused  herself  as  I  said,  — 

"  Yes,  you  are  free." 


8  8       Underground  Railroad        [No.  22 

"  But  that  don't  give  me  back  my  children,  —  my 
children,  that  I  brought  forth  with  pains  such  as 
white  women  have,  —  that  have  been  torn  from  my 
breast,  and  sold  from  me ;  and  when  I  cried  for  them 
was  tied  up  and  had  my  back  cut  to  pieces!" 

She  rose  and  approached  her  sister,  evidently  to 
call  her  mind  from  the  terrible  reality  of  the  past. 
"You  used  to  come  in  here  and  go  worry,  worry, 
worry  all  day  and  all  night,  and  say  it  was  no  use ; 
that  you  might  as  well  die;  that  you  would  be  a  great 
deal  better  off  if  you  were  dead.  You  wouldn't  be- 
lieve me  when  I  said  that  the  Lord  would  give  de- 
liverance. You  wouldn't  believe  that  the  Lord  was 
good;  but  just  see  what  he  has  done  for  you,  —  made 
you  free.     Aren't  you  willing  to  trust  him  now  ?  " 

The  sister  made  no  reply,  but  sat  wiping  away  her 
tears,  and  sighing  over  the  fate  of  her  children. 

"  Did  you  not  feel  sometimes  like  rising  against 
your  masters?"  I  asked  of  the  husband. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  did  feel  hard  sometimes,  and  I  reckon 
that  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  grace  which  the  Lord 
gave  us  we  should  have  done  so  ;  but  he  had  compas- 
sion on  us,  and  helped  us  to  bear  it.  We  knew  that 
he  would  hear  us  some  time." 

"  Did  you  ever  try  to  escape  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  I  was  once  interested  in  colonization, 
and  talked  of  going  to  Africa,  —  of  buying  myself, 
and  go  there  and  be  free.  But  just  then  there  was 
so  much  excitement  among  the  slaves  about  it,  that 
our  masters  put  a  stop  to  it." 

"  The  good  people  of  Boston  are  heaping  coals  of 
fire  on  the  heads  of  the  slaveholders  and  Rebels," 
said  Aunt  Nellie. 

"How  so?"  I  asked. 


no.  22]        Scenes   in    Savannah  89 

"  Why,  as  soon  as  General  Sherman  took  possession 
of  the  city,  you  send  down  ship-loads  of  provisions  to 
them.  They  have  fought  you  with  all  their  might, 
and  you  whip  them,  and  then  go  to  feeding  them." 

"  I  'spect  you  intended  that  black  and  white  folks 
should  have  them  alike,"  said  her  sister. 

"  Yes,  that  was  the  intention." 

"  Not  a  mouthful  have  I  had.  I  am  as  poor  as 
white  folks.  All  my  life  I  have  worked  for  them. 
I  have  given  them  houses  and  lands  ;  they  have  rode 
in  their  fine  carriages,  sat  in  their  nice  parlors,  taken 
voyages  over  the  waters,  and  had  money  enough, 
which  I  and  my  people  earned  for  them.  I  have  had 
my  back  cut  up.  I  have  been  sent  to  jail  because  I 
cried  for  my  children,  which  were  stolen  from  me. 
White  men  have  done  with  us  just  as  they  pleased. 
Now  they  turn  me  out  of  my  poor  old  cabin,  and  say 
they  own  it." 

"Come,  come,  sister,  don't  take  on;  but  you  just 
give  thanks  for  what  the  Lord  has  done  for  you," 
said  Aunt  Nellie. 

Her  sister  rose,  stately  as  a  queen,  and  said,  — 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,  for  your  kind  words  to  me  to- 
night. I  thank  all  the  good  people  in  the  North  for 
what  they  have  done  for  me  and  my  people.  The 
good  Lord  be  with  you." 

As  she  and  her  husband  left  the  room,  Aunt  Nellie 
said,  — 

"  Poor  girl !  she  can't  forget  her  children.  She's 
cried  for  them  day  and  night." 


go       Underground  Railroad        [No.  23 
23.    A  Slave's  Reminiscences 

By  Charles  Carleton  Coffin  (r864) 

Passing  by  a  church,  I  saw  the  sexton,  with  brush 
in  hand,  sweeping  the  aisles.  The  edifice  was  a  sub- 
stantial, ancient  structure,  with  a  mahogany  pulpit 
of  the  old  style,  a  broad  aisle,  chandelier  pendent 
from  the  arched  roof,  filagree  and  panel-work  around 
the  galleries.  Old  and  aristocratic  families  had  sat 
in  the  cushioned  pews,  —  men  of  vast  wealth,  owning 
houses,  lands,  and  slaves.  A  great  organ  loomed  high 
up  in  the  gallery,  its  gilt  pipes  fronting  the  pulpit. 
Marriages  and  funerals  had  been  solemnized  at  the 
altar.  For  fifteen  years,  Sunday  after  Sunday,  this  sex- 
ton had  faithfully  discharged  his  duties  at  the  church. 

He  was  stout,  thick-set,  strong,  with  well-developed 
muscles  and  a  clear  eye.  He  was  gentlemanly  in  his 
deportment,  and  his  voice  was  one  of  the  most  musi- 
cal I  ever  heard. 

"  Shall  I  take  a  look  at  the  church  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  sir.     Walk  in." 

His  words  were  as  if  he  had  chanted  them,  so 
faultless  the  tone,  inflection,  and  cadence.  His  fea- 
tures were  well  formed,  but  anthracite  coal  is  not 
blacker  than  his  complexion.  I  was  interested  in 
him  at  once.  He  leaning  upon  his  broom,  and  I  sit- 
ting in  one  of  the  pews,  had  a  free  conversation  upon 
the  events  of  his  life. 

He  was  born  in  Norfolk,  Virginia,  in  1829. 

"  My  old  master  died,"  said  he,  "  and  I  fell  to  his 
son,  who  went  off  to  college  and  got  to  spreeing  it, 
lost  all  his  property,  and  of  course  I  had  to  be  sold. 
I  brought  twelve  hundred  dollars,  —  that  was  in  1849, 


no.  23]     A  Slave  s  Reminiscences        9 1 

—  but  another  man  offered  the  man  who  bought  me 
a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  bonus  for  his  bargain, 
which  was  accepted,  and  I  was  brought  to  Charleston. 
I  have  always  been  a  slave." 

"  But  you  are  a  free  man  now  ;  just  as  free  as  I  am." 

"Yes,  sir,  so  General  Sherman  told  me.  I  had  a 
talk  with  him ;  and  he  talked  just  as  free  with  me  as 
if  I  was  his  own  brother.  But  I  don't  feel  it  in  my 
heart,  sir,  to  go  away  and  leave  my  old  master,  now 
that  he  is  poor,  and  calamity  has  come  upon  him." 

"  Has  he  always  treated  you  well  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,  —  that  is,  he  never  scarred  my  back. 
Some  masters  are  mighty  hard,  sir.  I  don't  blame 
some  negroes  for  running  away  from  their  masters 
now  that  they  can,  for  they  have  been  treated  mighty 
bad,  sir ;  but  my  master  has  had  great  calamity  come 
upon  him,  sir.  When  I  was  brought  here  from  Nor- 
folk, master's  son  Bob,  who  is  in  Texas,  —  a  captain 
in  the  Southern  army  now,  —  saw  me,  and  liked  me, 
and  I  liked  him,  and  his  father  bought  me  for  Bob, 
and  Bob  and  I  have  been  like  brothers  to  each  other. 
I  have  no  complaint  to  make.  But  master  has  lost 
two  sons  in  Virginia.  One  of  them  was  killed  in  the 
first  battle  of  Manassas." 

"  I  suppose  you  have  heard  many  prayers  here  for 
Jeff  Davis  ? " 

"Yes,  sir,  and  mighty  fine  sermons  for  the  Southern 
army,  sir ;  and  there  have  been  solemn  scenes  in  this 
church,  sir.  Six  bodies,  one  Sunday,  after  the  first 
battle  of  Manassas,  were  here  in  this  broad  aisle. 
I  had  the  communion-table  set  out  here,  right  in  front 
of  the  pulpit,  and  there  they  lay,  —  six  of  'em.  I 
couldn't  help  crying  when  I  saw  'em,  for  they  were 
just  like  old  friends  to  me.     They  used  to  attend  the 


9  2       Underground  Railroad        [No.  23 

Sunday  school  when  they  were  boys,  and  used  to  cut 
up  a  little  wild,  and  it  was  my  business  to  keep  'em 
straight.  They  belong  to  the  Oglethorpe  Light  In- 
fantry, and  went  with  Colonel  Barton.  They  went 
away  gayly,  and  thought  they  were  going  to  Rich- 
mond to  have  a  nice  time.  Their  mothers  and  sisters 
told  them  to  go  and  fight  the  Yankees.  They  didn't 
expect  to  see  them  brought  back  dead,  I  reckon.  It 
was  a  sad  day,  sir." 

"  Then  the  women  were  as  eager  as  the  men  for 
the  war  ? " 

"Yes,  sir,  —  more.  They  were  crazy  about  fight- 
ing the  Yankees.  I  know  that  some  of  the  boys 
didn't  want  to  fight  against  the  flag,  but  the  women 
made  'em.  The  men  had  to  wear  Secession  badges, 
as  something  to  show  that  they  were  for  the  South. 
If  it  hadn't  been  for  the  ladies,  I  reckon  we  wouldn't 
have  had  the  war." 

"  What  do  the  women  think  now  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  some  of  them  are  as  bitter  as  ever  they 
were  against  the  Yankees,  but  I  reckon  they  don't 
care  to  say  much  ;  and  then  there  are  others  who  see 
it  ain't  no  use  to  try  to  hold  out  any  longer.  There 
are  lots  of  'em  who  have  lost  their  husbands  and 
brothers  and  sons.  I  reckon  there  are  very  few  of 
the  Light  Infantry  left.  I  know  'em  all,  for  I  took 
care  of  their  hall,  —  their  armory,  —  and  they  made 
me  hoist  the  union  flag  down  one  day.  That  made 
me  feel  very  bad,  sir.  I  always  loved  the  flag,  and 
I  love  it  now  better  than  ever.  It  makes  me  feel 
bad  to  think  that  my  boys  fought  against  it.  But  I 
reckon  it  is  the  Lord's  doing,  sir,  and  that  it  will  be 
a  blessing  to  us  in  the  end." 

"  Can  you  read  and  write  ?  "  I  asked. 


no.  24]  First  School  Days  93 

"  A  little,  sir.  I  never  had  any  one  to  show  me, 
but  I  used  to  sit  down  here  in  the  pews  and  take  up 
the  hymn-book,  and  spell  out  the  words,  and  one  day 
master  Bob  set  me  a  copy  in  writing,  and  so  I  have 
learned  a  little.  I  can  read  the  newspapers,  sir,  and 
have  kept  track  of  the  war." 

We  talked  upon  the  prospects  of  the  colored  peo- 
ple now  that  they  were  free. 

"I  reckon,  sir,"  said  he,  "that  a  good  many  of  'em 
will  be  disappointed.  They  don't  know  what  freedom 
is.  But  they  will  find  that  they  have  got  to  work,  or 
else  they  won't  get  anything  to  eat.  They  are  poor, 
ignorant  creatures ;  but  I  reckon,  sir,  that  after  a 
while,  when  things  get  settled,  they  will  learn  how  to 
take  care  of  themselves.  But  I  think  they  are  mighty 
foolish  to  clear  out  and  leave  their  old  masters,  when 
they  can  have  good  situations,  and  good  pay,  and 
little  to  do.  Then,  sir,  it  is  kind  of  ungrateful  like,  to 
go  away  and  leave  their  old  masters  when  the  day 
of  calamity  comes.  I  could  not  do  it,  sir ;  besides,  I 
reckon  I  will  be  better  off  to  stay  here  for  the  present, 
sir." 


24.    First  School  Days 

By  Elizabeth  Hyde  Botume  (1865) 

One  bright  November  morning  I  started  to  take  pos- 
session of  my  contraband  school.  The  air  was  soft  as 
June  ;  birds  were  singing ;  the  cotton-fields  were  gay 
with  blossoms  which  contrasted  charmingly  with  the 
white  matured  bolls.  My  path  lay  through  a  grand  old 
live-oak  grove.  It  was  wonderfully  attractive,  with  its 
great  trees  covered  with    long    gray    moss,    through 


94         Underground  Railroad      [No.  24 

which  the  broad  sunshine  cast  fantastic  lights  and 
shadows.  From  this  I  emerged  into  an  open  field. 
There  was  no  regular  path,  and  the  walk  over  the  old 
cotton  hills  was  exceedingly  rough  and  uncomfortable. 
The  schoolhouse  to  which  I  was  appointed  was  a 
rough,  wooden  building  standing  on  palmetto  posts 


A   SOUTHERN    SCHOOLHOUSE. 


two  or  three  feet  from  the  ground,  with  an  open 
piazza  on  one  side.  When  I  first  came  in  sight  of 
this  building,  the  piazza  was  crowded  with  children, 
all  screaming  and  chattering  like  a  flock  of  jays  and 
blackbirds  in  a  quarrel.  But  as  soon  as  they  saw  me 
they  all  gave  a  whoop  and  a  bound  and  disappeared. 


no.  24]  First^Jchool  Days  95 

When  I  reached  the  door  there  was  no  living  thing  to  be 
seen ;  all  was  literally  as  still  as  a  mouse ;  so  I  in- 
spected my  new  quarters  while  waiting  for  my  forces. 

There  was  one  good  sized  room  without  partitions ; 
it  was  not  ceiled,  but  besides  the  usual  heavy  board 
shutters  its  six  windows  were  glazed.  This  was  a 
luxury  which  belonged  to  but  few  of  the  school-build- 
ings. Indeed,  these  glazed  windows  had  been  held 
up  to  me  as  a  marked  feature  in  my  new  location. 

The  furniture  consisted  of  a  few  wooden  benches, 
a  tall  pine  desk  with  a  high  office  stool,  one  narrow 
blackboard  leaning  against  a  post,  and  a  huge  box 
stove  large  enough  to  warm  a  Puritan  meeting-house 
in  the  olden  times.  The  pipe  of  the  stove  was  put 
through  one  window. 

I  believe  this  was  the  first  building  ever  erected 
exclusively  for  a  colored  school.  It  was  built  for  the 
colored  refugees  with  a  fund  sent  to  General  Saxton 
for  this  purpose  by  a  ladies'  freedman's  aid  society 
in  England.  All  the  contraband  schools  were  at 
that  time  kept  in  churches,  or  cotton-barns,  or  old 
kitchens.     Some  teachers  had  their  classes  in  tents. 

Inspection  over,  I  vigorously  rang  a  little  cracked 
hand-bell  which  I  found  on  the  desk.  Then  I  saw 
several  pairs  of  bright  eyes  peering  in  at  the  open 
door.  But  going  toward  them,  there  was  a  general 
scampering,  and  I  could  only  see  a  head  or  a  foot  dis- 
appearing under  the  house.  Again  I  rang  the  bell, 
with  the  same  result,  until  I  began  to  despair  of  get- 
ting my  scholars  together.  When  I  turned  my  back 
they  all  came  out.  When  I  faced  about  they  darted 
off.  In  time,  however,  I  succeeded  in  capturing  one 
small  urchin,  who  howled  vociferously,  "  O  !  O  !  " 
This    brought  out   the   others,   who   seemed   a   little 


96  Underground  Railroad      [No.  24 

scared  and  much  amused.  I  soon  reassured  my  cap- 
tive, so  the  rest  came  in.  Then  I  tried  to  seat  them, 
which  was  about  as  easy  as  keeping  so  many  marbles 
in  place  on  a  smooth  floor.  Going  towards  half  a  dozen 
little  fellows  huddled  together  on  one  bench,  they  simul- 
taneously darted  down  under  the  seat,  and  scampered 
off  on  their  hands  and  feet  to  a  corner  of  the  room, 
looking  very  much  like  a  family  of  frightened  kittens. 
Hearing  a  noise  and  suppressed  titters  back  of  me, 
I  looked  around,  and  saw  four  or  five  larger  boys 
rolling  over  and  over  under  the  benches  towards  the 
door.  Whether  for  fun  or  freedom  I  could  not  tell ; 
but  as  the  first  boy  sprang  to  his  feet  and  out  of  the 
door,  I  concluded  they  all  planned  escape.  But  I 
halted  the  rest,  and  got  them  on  to  their  feet  and  into 
their  seats.  Then  I  looked  them  over.  They  saw  I 
was  not  angry,  but  in  earnest,  so  they  quieted  down. 
The  runaway  peeped  in  at  the  door,  then  crept  along 
and  sat  down  by  his  companions.  There  was  not 
a  crowd  of  them, — not  half  as  many  as  I  supposed 
from  all  the  clatter  they  had  made. 

All  these  children  were  black  as  ink  and  as  shy  as 
wild  animals.  I  had  seen  some  of  them  before,  and 
the  brightest  among  them  had  been  pointed  out ;  but 
they  all  looked  alike  to  me  now.  I  tried  in  vain  to 
fix  upon  some  distinguishing  mark  by  which  I  might 
know  one  from  another.  Some  of  these  children  had 
been  in  a  school  before,  but  they  were  afraid  of  white 
people,  and  especially  of  strangers.  As  they  said  of  a 
teacher  on  a  subsequent  occasion,  "  Us  ain't  know  she." 

I  had  much  the  same  experience  with  these  children 
a  few  months  later.  Small-pox  had  broken  out  in  the 
colored  camps  around  Beaufort,  and  the  commanding 
officer  issued  an  order  that  all  the  children  should  be 


no.  24]  First  School  Days  97 

vaccinated.  So  one  morning  a  physician  came  to  my 
school  for  this  purpose ;  I  expected  him,  but  had  said 
nothing,  not  anticipating  a  riot.  The  room  was  full, 
many  large  boys  and  girls  being  present.  The  doc- 
tor laid  his  hat  with  a  small  box  on  the  desk  and 
took  a  chair.  I  called  the  largest  girl  in  the  room 
to  me,  and  I  rolled  up  her  sleeve,  the  whole  school 
watching  us  with  anxiety.  The  doctor  took  hold  of 
her  hand  and  raised  his  lancet ;  this  was  too  much  ; 
she  uttered  a  shriek,  snatched  away  her  hand,  and 
darted  out  of  the  room,  and  the  entire  school  followed 
her.  The  leaders  dashed  down  the  river-bank,  and 
the  little  ones  darted  under  the  house.  I  called  in 
vain,  and  frantically  rang  my  bell.  Miss  Fannie,  who 
was  with  me  by  that  time,  hunted  about,  and  coaxed 
the  few  laggards  she  found ;  but  they  were  not  to  be 
lured  back  to  face  a  direful  enemy  who  confronted 
them  with  a  murderous  weapon.  There  was  nothing 
further  to  be  done  that  day.  The  doctor  went  home, 
and  towards  night  Miss  Fannie  and  I  went  to  see  some 
of  the  people,  to  whom  we  explained  the  object  of  the 
doctor's  visit.  The  mothers,  who  had  been  watchful 
to  protect  their  children,  now  turned  around  and  be- 
rated them  well  for  their  fears. 

"  Don't  you  fret,  missis.  They  is  sure  to  be  there 
to-morrow,"  they  said  ;  and  so  they  were,  in  full  force. 
The  doctor  came  again,  and  I  explained  what  he 
wished  to  do,  baring  my  own  arm  to  show  them  the 
scar  made  by  vaccination  in  my  childhood.  Now 
they  were  all  as  eager  to  have  this  done  as  they  were 
reluctant  before.  Some  of  the  boys  came  back  and 
begged  to  have  some  of  that  little  stuff  put  into  the 
other  arm.  They  evidently  considered  the  bit  of 
court-plaster  a  badge  of  honor. 


9  8       Underground  Railroad        [No.  25 
25.    Calling  the  Roll 

By  Elizabeth  Hyde  Botume  (1865) 

These  children  had  been  born  and  bred  in  troub- 
lous times.  They  had  always  been  surrounded  by 
conflict  and  confusion.  Irrepressible  ?  That's  tame  ! 
They  were  in  a  constant  state  of  effervescence.  In 
time,  after  some  more  skirmishing,  the  little  gang  be- 


PICKANINNIES. 


fore  me  was  brought  into  a  degree  of  order.  They 
listened,  apparently,  with  open  mouths  and  staring 
eyes  to  what  I  had  to  say.  But  I  soon  discovered 
my  words  were  like  an  unknown  tongue  to  them.  I 
must  first  know  something  of  their  dialect  in  order 
that  we  might  understand  each  other. 

Now  I  wished  to  take  down  the  names  of   these 


no.  25]  Calling  the  Roll  99 

children ;  so  I  turned  to  the  girl  nearest  me  and  said, 
"  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  It  is  Phyllis,  ma'am." 

"  But  what  is  your  other  name  ?  " 

"  Only  Phyllis,  ma'am." 

I  then  explained  that  we  all  have  two  names  ;  but 
she  still  replied,  "  Nothing  but  Phyllis,  ma'am." 

Upon  this  an  older  girl  started  up  and  exclaimed, 
"  Pshaw,  gal !  What's  you'm  title  ?  "  whereupon  she 
gave  the  name  of  her  old  master. 

After  this  each  child  gave  two  names,  most  of 
them  funny  combinations.  Sometimes  they  would 
tell  me  one  thing,  and  when  asked  to  repeat  it,  would 
say  something  quite  different.  The  older  children 
would  frequently  correct  and  contradict  the  younger 
ones.  I  know  now  that  they  manifested  much  inge- 
nuity in  invention  or  selection  of  names  and  titles. 
One  boy  gave  his  name  as  Middleton  Heywood, 
shouting  it  out  as  if  it  were  something  he  had  caught 
and  might  lose.  Whereupon  another  boy  started  up, 
saying  angrily,  "  Not  so,  boy.  You  ain't  Massa  Mid- 
die's  boy.     I  is." 

All  were  now  busily  studying  up  their  cognomens, 
and  two  or  three'  would  try  to  speak  together  before 
being  called  upon.  One  boy  was  "  Pumpkin,"  an- 
other "  Squash,"  and  another  "  Cornhouse."  The 
girls  were  "  Honey,"  and  "  Baby,"  and  "  Missy,"  and 
"  Tay,"  with  an  indiscriminate  adoption  of  Rhetts, 
Barnwells,  Elliots,  Stuarts,  and  Middletons,  for  titles. 

I  thought  of  Adam's  naming  the  animals,  and  won- 
dered if  he  had  been  as  much  puzzled  as  I.  Certainly 
he  gave  out  the  names  at  first  hand,  and  had  no  con- 
flicting incongruities  to  puzzle  him.  In  time  I  en- 
rolled fifteen  names,  the  number  present. 


ioo       Underground  Railroad     [No.  25 

The  next  morning  I  called  the  roll,  but  no  one 
answered,  so  I  was  obliged  to  go  around  again  and 
make  out  a  new  list.  I  could  not  distinguish  one 
from  another.  They  looked  like  so  many  peas  in  a 
pod.  The  woolly  heads  of  the  girls  and  boys  looked 
just  alike.  All  wore  indiscriminately  any  cast-off 
garments  given  them,  so  it  was  not  easy  to  tell  which 
was  which.  Were  there  twenty-five  new  scholars,  or 
only  ten  ? 

The  third  morning  it  was  the  same  work  over 
again.  There  were  forty  children  present,  many  of 
them  large  boys  and  girls.  I  had  already  a  list  of 
over  forty  names.  Amongst  these  were  most  of  the 
months  of  the  year  and  days  of  the  week,  besides  a 
number  of  Pompeys,  Cudjos,  Sambos,  and  Rhinas, 
and  Rosas  and  Floras.  I  now  wrote  down  forty  new 
names,  and  I  began  to  despair  of  ever  getting  regu- 
lated. Fortunately,  the  day  before,  I  had  given  out 
two  dozen  paper  primers  with  colored  pictures,  and 
had  written  a  name  on  each.  So  I  called  these 
names,  but  only  two  or  three  children  came  forward 
to  claim  their  books.  So  I  laid  the  rest  one  side. 
Then  half-a-dozen  little  heads  were  lifted  up,  and 
one  boy  said,  "  Please,  ma'am,  us  wants  one  o'  dem." 

"  I  have  no  more,  and  these  are  given  away  al- 
ready," I  said. 

"  You'na  done  give  them  to  we !  "  they  exclaimed. 
I  asked  the  first  boy  what  was  his  name.  Then  I 
looked  over  the  books.  No  name  had  been  put  down 
like  the  one  he  gave.  It  was  the  same  with  all  the 
rest.  But  as  I  turned  the  books  over,  one  girl  ex- 
claimed, "  Dar,  da  him  !  "  And  coming  forward,  she 
pointed  to  one  of  the  primers  with  evident  delight, 
saying,    "  Him's    mine."       I    looked    at    the    written 


no.  25]  Calling  the  Roll  1  o  1 

name.  It  was  Lucy  Barnwell.  I  asked  her  name. 
It  was  Fanny  Osborne.  "  Pshaw,  gal !  "  exclaimed 
an  older  girl,  "  Dat's  youn'a  mammy's  name." 

Now  the  others  came  forward  and  picked  out  their 
own  'books.  What  marks  they  had  to  distinguish 
their   property  I   have  never  been  able  to  discover. 

In  time  I  began  to  get  acquainted  with  some  of 
their  faces.  I  could  remember  that  "  Cornhouse " 
yesterday  was  "  Primus  "  to-day,  and  "  Quash  "  was 
"  Bryan." 

It  was  months  before  I  learned  their  family  rela- 
tions. The  terms  "  bubber  "  for  brother,  and  "  titty  " 
for  sister,  with  "  nanna  "  for  mother,  and  "  mother  " 
for  grandmother,  and  father  for  all  leaders  in  church 
and  society,  were  so  generally  used,  I  was  forced  to 
believe  that  all  belonged  to  one  immense  family.  It 
was  hopeless  trying  to  understand  their  titles.  There 
were  two  half-brothers  in  school.  One  was  called 
Dick,  and  the  other  Richard.  In  one  family  there 
were  nine  brothers  and  half-brothers,  and  each  took 
a  different  title.  One  took  Hamilton,  and  another 
Singleton,  and  another  Baker,  and  others  Smith, 
Simmons,  etc.  Their  father  was  "  Jimmy  of  the 
Battery,"  or  "Jimmy  Black."  I  asked  why  his  title 
was  Black. 

"  Oh,  him  look  so.  Him  one  very  black  man," 
they  said. 

These  men  are  well  settled,  and  have  families  grow- 
ing up  in  honor  and  respectability  who  are  as  tena- 
cious of  their  titles  as  any  of  the  F.  F.  Vs. 

One  boy  gave  the  name  of  Middleton,  but  after- 
wards came  to  me,  wishing  to  have  it  changed,  say- 
ing, "That's  my  ole  rebel  master's  title.  Him's 
nothing  to  me  now.     I  don't  belong  to  he  no  longer, 


102       Underground  Railroad      [No.  26 

an'  I  don't  see  no  use  in  being  called  for  him."  But 
when  I  asked  what  other  name  he  would  choose,  the 
poor  fellow  was  much  puzzled.  He  evidently  sup- 
posed I  could  supply  a  proper  cognomen  as  I  sup- 
plied new  clothes,  picking  out  something  to  fit.  In 
time  he  decided  upon  Drayton,  as  "  that  was  a  good 
name  in  secesh  times,  and  General  Drayton  was  a 
friend  to  we,  an'  no  mistake.  He  fight  on  our  side 
'gainst  his  own  brother  when  the  first  gun  shoot." 

That  was  the  beginning  of  time  for  these  poor  freed 
people,  "when  the  first  gun  shoot." 


26.    A   Colored   Waif 

By  Elizabeth  Hyde  Botume  (1865) 

One  bright  morning  in  May,  1865,  an  orderly  rode 
up  to  our  door  at  the  plantation  with  a  military  order 
from  General  Saxton,  requiring  us,  Miss  Fannie  and 
myself,  to  report  at  headquarters  in  Beaufort  that 
afternoon.  An  ambulance  would  be  sent  for  us  at 
three  o'clock.  Unless  something  unexpected  pre- 
vented we  should  be  returned  to  our  home  Sunday 
afternoon.     This  was  Friday. 

With  this  order  was  a  bright  note  from  the  major's 
wife,  telling  us  not  to  be  alarmed  by  a  military  sum- 
mons ;  they  all  knew  that  nothing  less  than  a  com- 
mand with  authority  would  bring  us  to  them,  and 
indeed,  we  must  know  they  wanted  to  see  us  very 
much ;  besides,  they  had  something  to  tell  us. 

So  in  due  time  we  were  packed  into  an  ambulance 
and  conveyed  to  town,  where  we  were  received  at 
headquarters    by  an    orderly,  and    conducted   to  the 


no.  26]  A  Colored  Waif  103 

general.  He  received  us  with  military  formality, 
asked  us  a  few  questions,  then  laughingly  turned  us 
over  to  the  colonel  and  major,  who  conducted  us  to 
the  ladies. 

We  soon  learned  why  we  were  summoned  at  this 
special  time.  A  little  mulatto  boy  had  been  sent  to 
General  Saxton  by  Mrs.  Jefferson  Davis,  and  now 
the  question  came  up,  what  was  the  best  thing  to  do 
with  him. 

He  was  about  seven  years  old,  but  small  for  his 
age ;  was  a  very  light  mulatto,  with  brown  curly  hair, 
thin  lips,  and  a  defiant  nose.  When  brought  before 
us  he  looked  around  suspiciously  and  fearlessly. 
When  Mrs.  Saxton  called  him  he  walked  calmly  up 
to  her ;  but  when  I  held  out  my  hand  to  him  he 
folded  his  arms  and  stood  still,  straight  as  an  arrow, 
with  his  head  thrown  back,  without  meeting  my 
friendly  advances.  It  was  comical  to  see  the  cool 
indifference  of  this  tiny  scrap  of  humanity. 

"  Jimmie,  this  lady  is  your  friend,"  said  Mrs.  Sax- 
ton. Thereupon  he  walked  up  to  me  and  held  out 
his  hand.  "  Now  go  out  on  the  piazza,  and  wait  until 
I  call  you,"  continued  the  lady. 

Now  his  whole  manner  changed.  Taking  the  ma- 
jor's little  boy  by  the  hand,  he  went  out  of  the  room 
laughing  and  talking  and  we  soon  saw  him  racing 
around  with  Eddie  full  of  fun  and  frolic.  He  was 
evidently  fond  of  children,  but  he  distrusted  grown 
people.  Well  he  might,  for  he  had  seen  only  troub- 
lous times.  This  was  his  story  as  then  told  us  :  an 
officer  brought  with  him  this  small  colored  boy,  sent 
by  Mrs.  Davis  to  General  Saxton.  She  also  sent  the 
following  note  by  the  boy,  written  with  pencil  on  the 
blank  leaf  of  a  book  :  — 


1 04       Underground  Railroad     [No.  26 

"  I  send  this  boy  to  you,  General  Saxton,  and  beg 
you  to  take  good  care  of  him."  His  mother  was  a 
free  colored  woman  in  Richmond.  She  died  when 
he  was  an  infant,  leaving  him  to  the  care  of  a  friend, 
who  was  cruel  and  neglectful  of  him.  One  day  Mrs. 
Davis  and  her  children  went  to  the  house  and  found 
this  woman  beating  the  little  fellow,  who  was  then 
only  two  years  old.  So  she  took  him  home  with  her, 
intending  to  find  a  good  place  for  him.  But  he  was 
so  bright  and  playful,  her  own  children  were  unwill- 
ing to  give  him  up.  Then  she  decided  to  keep  him 
until  he  was  old  enough  to  learn  a  trade.  "  That  was 
five  years  ago,  and  he  has  shared  our  fortunes  and 
misfortunes  until  the  present  time.  But  we  can  do 
nothing  more  for  him.  I  send  him  to  you,  General 
Saxton,  as  you  were  a  friend  of  our  earlier  and  better 
times.  You  will  find  him  affectionate  and  tractable. 
I  beg  you  to  be  kind  to  him."  This  was  the  gist  of 
her  note. 

As  he  was  the  constant  companion  and  playmate 
of  Mrs.  Davis's  children,  he  considered  himself  as 
one  of  them,  adopting  their  views  and  sharing  their 
prejudices.  President  Davis  was  to  him  the  one 
great  man  in  the  world.  Mrs.  Davis  had  given  him 
the  kindly  care  of  a  mother,  and  he  had  for  her  the 
loving  devotion  of  a  child. 

His  clothing  consisted  of  a  threadbare  jacket  and 
pants,  much  too  small  for  him.  He  had  no  covering 
for  his  head,  and  he  was  barefooted. 

One  of  the  ladies  asked  him  if  he  had  any  more 
clothing.  He  held  down  his  head,  and  said  with  a 
trembling  voice :  — 

"  Her  couldn't  do  any  better,"  meaning  Mrs.  Davis  ; 
"  her  hadn't  any  more  to  give  me,  for  her  hadn't  any 


no.  26]  A  Colored  Waif  105 

clothes  for  the  other  children.  Bud,"  meaning  Mrs. 
Davis's  oldest  boy,  "  wanted  me  to  wear  his  cap,  and 
he  put  it  on  my  head,  but  her  said  him  wanted  it 
more'na  me,  and  I  must  be  a  good  boy  till  her  send 
for  me." 

He  was  very  quick  and  active,  and  always  alert. 
One  day  he  heard  some  little  darkies  singing  "We'll 
hang  Jeff  Davis  on  a  sour-apple  tree."  This  was 
more  than  Jimmie  could  stand.  He  dashed  into  their 
gang,  and  waving  his  new  straw  hat,  of  which  he 
was  very  proud,  shouted,  "  Three  cheers  for  President 
Jefferson  Davis."  At  this  the  whole  crowd  was  in 
commotion.  They  shouted  "  A  rebel!  a  rebel !  "  and 
began  to  throw  oyster-shells  at  him,  and  all  wanted 
to  fight.  Jimmie  backed  up  against  the  house,  and 
told  them  to  come  on  ;  that  "  President  Davis  was 
no  rebel,  but  a  good  gentleman  who  would  whip  the 
Yankees  yet." 

General  Saxton  was  informed  of  the  fight  going  on 
amongst  the  pickaninnies,  so  he  called  James  to  him 
and  questioned  him  about  the  affair. 

The  boy  bravely  told  him  all  that  had  happened, 
and  angrily  declared  that  if  he  were  a  man  he  would 
kill  every  one  of  them. 

General  Saxton  replied  it  was  true  General  Davis 
had  been  his  best  friend,  and  he  highly  approved  of 
his  fidelity  to  him.  But  fighting  for  him  was  of  no 
avail.  He  doubted  if  fighting  ever  helped  anybody. 
He  could  love  and  honor  President  Davis,  but  it 
would  be  wiser  at  present  to  say  nothing  about  him. 
Mrs.  Davis  had  sent  him  here,  and  they  meant  to 
take  care  of  him. 

The  little  fellow  faltered  out  that  — 

"  Her  didn't  want  to   send    me,  sir,  and    her  cry 


106       Underground  Railroad     [No.  26 

when  I  come  away."  But  after  that  he  never  men- 
tioned the  name  of  Jefferson  Davis,  and  was  very 
unwilling  to  be  questioned  about  him. 

General  and  Mrs.  Saxton  took  him  with  them  to 
Charleston,  and  while  there  he  became  very  fond  of 
his  new  protectors.  But  the  vicissitudes  of  army  life 
made  it  impossible  for  them  to  keep  him,  so  he  was 
sent  to  us  to  be  taken  North  and  placed  where  he 
could  go  to  school.  This  was  another  great  trial  fo'r 
the  lad. 

When  Mrs.  Saxton  told  him  he  was  to  go  to  the 
plantation  she  said,  "  You  will  be  very  happy  with 
the  ladies."  He  tearfully  replied,  "  I'll  be  more  hap- 
pier with  the  general.  I  likes  to  wait  on  them  I 
love." 

"  He  came  to  us  in  March,  and  soon  settled  down 
into  regular  duties  in  school,  where  he  seemed  very 
happy.  One  day  he  said,  "  Is  to-day  March  ?  well, 
to-morrow  will  be  deeper  March,  won't  it  ?  And  then 
summer  will  come,  and  I  shall  see  the  general."  He 
told  me  with  evident  pleasure  of  the  presents  offered 
General  Saxton  in  Charleston.  Then  he  said  thought- 
fully, "  God  is  a  good  man,  ain't  him  ?  I  think  him 
and  General  Saxton  two  of  the  goodest  men  in  the 
world." 

When  it  was  explained  to  him  that  God  was  not  a 
man,  he  seemed  to  reflect  upon  it  for  a  time ;  then  he 
exclaimed,  "  Well,  the  general  is  most  as  good  as 
him!" 


No.  27] 


Contrabands 


107 


27.    Contrabands 

By  Charles  Carleton  Coffin  (1866) 

During  the  march  the  next  day  towards  the  North 
Anna,  I  halted  at  a  farm-house.  The  owner  had  fled 
to  Richmond  in  advance  of  the  army,  leaving  his 
overseer,  a  stout,  burly,  red-faced,  tobacco-chewing 
man.  There  were  a  score  of  old  buildings  on  the 
premises.  It  had  been  a  notable  plantation,  yielding 
luxuriant  harvests  of  wheat,  but  the  proprietor  had 
turned  his  attention  to  the  culture  of  tobacco,  and  the 


This  name, 
which  strictly 
applies  to 
aims  and 
munitions  of 
war,  was 
given  to  the 
escaped  ne- 
groes by 
General  But- 
ler in  1861, 


CONTRABANDS. 


breeding  of  negroes.  He  sold  annually  a  crop  of 
human  beings  for  the  southern  market.  The  day 
before  our  arrival,  hearing  that  the  Yankees  were 
coming,  he  hurried  forty  or  fifty  souls  to  Richmond. 


io8       Underground  Railroad     [No.  27 

He  intended  to  take  all,  —  forty  or  fifty  more, — -but 
the  negroes  fled  to  the  woods.  The  overseer  did  his 
best  to  collect  them,  but  in  vain.  The  proprietor 
raved,  and  stormed,  and  became  violent  in  his  lan- 
guage and  behavior,  threatening  terrible  punishment 
on  all  the  runaways,  but  the  appearance  of  a  body  of 
Union  cavalry  put  an  end  to  maledictions.  He  had 
a  gang  of  men  and  women  chained  together,  and 
hurried  them  toward  Richmond. 

The  runaways  came  out  from  their  hiding-places 
when  they  saw  the  Yankees,  and  advanced  fearlessly 
with  open  countenances.  The  first  pleasure  of  the 
negroes  was  to  smile  from  ear  to  ear,  the  second  to 
give  everybody  a  drink  of  water  or  a  piece  of  hoe- 
cake,  the  third  to  pack  up  their  bundles  and  be  in 
readiness  to  join  the  army. 

"  Are  you  not  afraid  of  us  ?  " 

"  Afraid  !  Why,  boss,  I's  been  praying  for  yer  to 
come  ;  and  now  yer  is  here,  thank  de  Lord." 

"  Are  you  not  afraid  that  we  shall  sell  you  ?  " 

"  No,  boss,  I  isn't.  The  overseer  said  you  would 
sell  us  off  to  Cuba,  to  work  in  the  sugar-mill,  but  we 
didn't  believe  him." 

Among  the  servants  was  a  bright  mulatto  girl,  who 
was  dancing,  singing,  and  manifesting  her  joy  in 
violent  demonstration. 

"What  makes  you  so  happy?"  I  asked. 

"  Because  you  Yankees  have  come.  I  can  go  home 
now." 

"  Is  not  this  your  home  ?  " 

"  No.     I  come  from  Williamsport  in  Maryland." 

"  When  did  you  come  from  there  ?  " 

"  Last  year.  Master  sold  me.  I  spect  my  brother 
is    'long   with    the    army.     He   ran    away  last   year. 


no.  27]  Contrabands  109 

Master  was  afraid  that  I  should  run  away,  and  he 
sold  me." 

The  negroes  came  from  all  the  surrounding  planta- 
tions. Old  men  with  venerable  beards,  horny  hands, 
crippled  with  hard  work  and  harder  usage ;  aged 
women,  toothless,  almost  blind,  steadying  their  steps 
with  sticks  ;  little  negro  boys,  driving  a  team  of  skele- 
ton steers,  —  mere  bones  and  tendons  covered  with 
hide,  —  or  wall-eyed  horses,  spavined,  foundered,  and 
lame,  attached  to  rickety  carts  and  wagons,  piled 
with  beds,  tables,  chairs,  pots  and  kettles,  hens, 
turkeys,  ducks,  women  with  infants  in  their  arms,  and 
a  sable  cloud  of  children  trotting  by  their  side. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ? "  I  said  to  a  short,  thick- 
set, gray-bearded  old  man,  shuffling  along  the  road  ; 
his  toes  bulging  from  his  old  boots,  and  a  tattered 
straw  hat  on  his  head,  —  his  gray  wool  protruding 
from  the  crown. 

"  I  do'no,  boss,  where  I'se  going,  but  I  reckon  I'll 
go  where  the  army  goes." 

"  And  leave  your  old  home,  your  old  master,  and 
the  place  where  you  have  lived  all  your  days  ? " 

"Yes,  boss  ;  master,  he's  gone.  He  went  to  Rich- 
mond. Reckon  he  went  mighty  sudden,  boss,  when 
he  heard  you  was  coming.  Thought  I'd  like  to  go 
along  with  you." 

His  face  streamed  with  perspiration.  He  had  been 
sorely  afflicted  with  the  rheumatism,  and  it  was  with 
difficulty  that  he  kept  up  with  the  column  ;  but  it  was 
not  a  hard  matter  to  read  the  emotions  of  his  heart. 
He  was  marching  towards  freedom.  Suddenly  a  light 
had  shined  upon  him.  Hope  had  quickened  in  his 
soul.  He  had  a  vague  idea  of  what  was  before  him. 
He  had  broken   loose  from  all  which    he   had  been 


1 1  o       Underground  Railroad      [No.  27 

accustomed  to  call  his  own,  —  his  cabin,  a  mud- 
chinked  structure,  with  the  ground  for  a  floor,  his 
garden  patch,  —  to  go  out,  in  his  old  age,  wholly  un- 
provided for,  yet  trusting  in  God  that  there  would  be 
food  and  raiment  on  the  other  side  of  Jordan. 

It  was  a  Jordan  to  them.  It  was  the  Sabbath-day, 
—  bright,  clear,  calm,  and  delightful.  There  was  a 
crowd  of  several  hundred  colored  people  at  a  deserted 
farm-house. 

"  Will  it  disturb  you  if  we  have  a  little  singing  ? 
You  see  we  feel  so  happy  to-day  that  we  would  like 
to  praise  the  Lord." 

It  was  the  request  of  a  middle-aged  woman. 

"  Not  in  the  least.     I  should  like  to  hear  you." 

In  a  few  moments  a  crowd  had  assembled  in  one 
of  the  rooms.  A  stout  young  man,  black,  bright- 
eyed,  thick-wooled,  took  the'centre  of  the  room.  The 
women  and  girls,  dressed  in  their  best  clothes,  which 
they  had  put  on  to  make  their  exodus  from  bondage 
in  the  best  possible  manner,  stood  in  circles  round 
him.  The  young  man  began  to  dance.  He  jumped 
up,  clapped  his  hands,  slapped  his  thighs,  whirled 
round,  stamped  upon  the  floor. 

"  Sisters,  let  us  bless  the  Lord.  Sisters,  join  in 
the  chorus,"  he  said,  and  led  off  with  a  kind  of 
recitative,  improvised  as  the  excitement  gave  him 
utterance. 

"  We  are  going  to  the  other  side  of  Jordan, 

So  glad  !  so  glad  ! 
Bless  the  Lord  for  freedom, 

So  glad  !  so  glad  ! 
We  are  going  on  our  way, 

So  glad !  so  glad  ! 


no.  27]  Contrabands  1 1 1 

To  the  other  side  of  Jordan, 

So  glad  !  so  glad  ! 
Sisters,  won't  you  follow  ? 

So  glad  !  so  glad  ! 
Brothers,  won't  you  follow?  " 

And  so  it  went  on  for  a  half-hour,  without  cessa- 
tion, all  dancing,  clapping  their  hands,  tossing  their 
heads.  It  was  the  ecstasy  of  action.  It  was  a  joy 
not  to  be  uttered,  but  demonstrated.  The  old  house 
partook  of  their  rejoicing.  It  rang  with  their  jubi- 
lant shouts,  and  shook  in  all  its  joints. 

It  was  late  at  night  before  the  dancers  ceased,  and 
then  they  stopped,  not  because  of  a  surfeit  of  joy,  but 
because  the  time  had  come  for  silence  in  the  camp. 
It  was  their  first  Sabbath  of  freedom,  and  like  the 
great  king  of  Israel,  upon  the  recovery  of  the  ark 
of  God,  they  danced  before  the  Lord  with  all  their 
might. 

We  had  a  hard,  dusty  ride  from  the  encampment 
at  Mongohick  to  the  Pamunkey,  and  halted  beneath 
the  oaks,  magnolias,  and  buttonwoods  of  an  old 
Virginia  mansion. 

When  the  war  commenced,  the  owner  of  this  mag- 
nificent estate  enlisted  in  the  army,  and  was  made  a 
colonel  of  cavalry.  He  furnished  supplies  and  kept 
open  house  for  his  comrades  in  arms ;  but  he  fell 
in  a  cavalry  engagement  on  the  Rappahannock,  in 
October,  1863,  leaving  a  wife  and  three  young  chil- 
dren. The  advance  of  the  army,  its  sudden  appear- 
ance on  the  Pamunkey,  left  his  wife  no  time  to 
remove  her  personal  estate,  or  to  send  her  negroes 
to  Richmond  for  safe  keeping.  Fitz-Hugh  Lee  dis- 
puted   Sheridan's  advance.     The  fighting   began  on 


112      Underground  Railroad      [No.  27 

this  estate.  Charges  by  squadrons  and  regiments 
were  made  through  the  corn-fields.  Horses,  cattle, 
hogs,  sheep,  were  seized  by  the  cavalrymen.  The 
garden,  filled  with  young  vegetables,  was  spoiled.  In 
an  hour  there  was  complete  desolation.  The  hundred 
negroes  —  cook,  steward,  chambermaid,  house  and 
field  hands,  old  and  young  —  all  left  their  work  and 
followed  the  army. 

Passing  by  one  of  the  negro  cabins  on  the  estate,  I 
saw  a  middle-aged  colored  woman  packing  a  bundle. 

"  Are  you  going  to  move  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir;   I  am  going  to  follow  the  army." 

"  What  for  ?     Where  will  you  go  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  go  to  Washington,  to  find  my  husband. 
He  ran  away  awhile  ago,  and  is  at  work  in  Washing- 
ton." 

"  Do  you  think  it  right,  auntie,  to  leave  your  mis- 
tress, who  has  taken  care  of  you  so  long  ? " 

She  had  been  busy  with  her  bundle,  but  stopped 
now  and  stood  erect  before  me,  her  hands  on  her 
hips.     Her  black  eyes  flashed. 

"  Taken  care  of  me !  What  did  she  ever  do  for 
me  ?  Haven't  I  been  her  cook  for  more  than  thirty 
years  ?  Haven't  I  cooked  every  meal  she  ever  ate  in 
that  house  ?  What  has  she  done  for  me  in  return  ? 
She  has  sold  my  children  down  South,  one  after  an- 
other. She  has  whipped  me  when  I  cried  for  them. 
She  has  treated  me  like  a  hog,  sir !  Yes,  sir,  like  a 
hog!" 


no.  28]  Hymn   of  Freedom 


13 


28.    Hymn   of  Freedom 

By  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  (1863) 

The  word  of  the  Lord  by  night 
To  the  watching  Pilgrims  came, 
And  they  sat  by  the  sea-side, 
And  filled  their  hearts  with  flame. 

God  said,  —  I  am  tired  of  Kings,  ' 
I  suffer  them  no  more ; 
Up  to  my  ear  the  morning  brings 
The  outrage  of  the  poor. 

Think  ye  I  made  this  ball 

A  field  of  havoc  and  war, 

Where  tyrants  great  and  tyrants  small 

Might  harry  the  weak  and  poor  ? 

My  angel,  —  his  name  is  Freedom,  — 
Choose  him  to  be  your  king ; 
He  shall  cut  pathways  east  and  west, 
And  fend  you  with  his  wing. 

Lo  !  I  uncover  the  land 
Which  I  hid  of  old  time  in  the  West, 
As  the  sculptor  uncovers  his  statue, 
When  he  has  wrought  his  best. 

I  show  Columbia,  of  the  rocks 
Which  dip  their  foot  in  the  seas, 
And  soar  to  the  air-borne  flocks 
Of  clouds,  and  the  boreal  fleece. 

I  will  divide  my  goods ; 
Call  in  the  wretch  and  slave : 


Ralph  Waldo 
Emerson, 
one  of  the 
greatest  of 
American 
writers  and 
thinkers,  was 
never  an  abo- 
litionist; but 
is  a  good 
type  of  the 
anti-slavery 
man  who 
hated  the 
system,  with- 
out clearly 
seeing  how 
to  be  rid  of  it. 


114       Underground  Railroad      [No.  28 

None  shall  rule  but  the  humble, 
And  none  but  toil  shall  have. 

I  will  have  never  a  noble, 

No  lineage  counted  great : 

Fishers  and  choppers  and  ploughmen 

Shall  constitute  a  State. 

Go,  cut  down  trees  in  the  forest, 
And  trim  the  straightest  boughs ; 
Cut  down  trees  in  the  forest, 
And  build  me  a  wooden  house. 

Call  the  people  together, 
The  young  men  and  the  sires, 
The  digger  in  the  harvest-field, 
Hireling  and  him  that  hires. 

And  here  in  a  pine  State-house 
They  shall  choose  men  to  rule 
In  every  needful  faculty,  — 
In  church  and  state  and  school. 

Lo,  now  !  if  these  poor  men 

Can  govern  the  land  and  sea, 

And  make  just  laws  below  the  sun, — 

As  planets  faithful  be. 

And  ye  shall  succor  men ; 

'Tis  nobleness  to  serve; 

Help  them  who  cannot  help  again ; 

Beware  from  right  to  swerve. 

I  break  your  bonds  and  masterships, 
And  I  unchain  the  slave  : 
Free  be  his  heart  and  hand  henceforth, 
As  wind  and  wandering  wave. 


no.  28]  Hymn   of  Freedom  115 

I  cause  from  every  creature 
His  proper  good  to  flow : 
So  much  as  he  is  and  doeth, 
So  much  he  shall  bestow. 

But,  laying  his  hands  on  another 
To  coin  his  labor  and  sweat, 
He  goes  in  pawn  to  his  victim 
For  eternal  years  in  debt. 

Pay  ransom  to  the  owner, 

And  fill  the  bag  to  the  brim  ! 

Who  is  the  owner  ?     The  slave  is  owner, 

And  ever  was.     Pay  him  ! 

O  North  !  give  him  beauty  for  rags, 
And  honor,  O  South  !  for  his  shame ; 
Nevada  !  coin  thy  golden  crags 
With  Freedom's  image  and  name. 

Up  !  and  the  dusky  race 
That  sat  in  darkness  long,  — 
Be  swift  their  feet  as  antelopes, 
And  as  behemoth  strong. 

Come  East  and  West  and  North, 
By  races,  as  snow-flakes, 
And  carry  My  purpose  forth, 
Which  neither  halts  nor  shakes. 

My  will  fulfilled  shall  be, 
For,  in  daylight  or  in  dark, 
My  thunderbolt  has  eyes  to  see 
His  way  home  to  the  mark. 


PART  III 
IN   AND    OUT    OF   THE    ARMY 


29.    Our  Country's  Call 

By  William  Cullen  Bryant  (1861) 

Lay  down  the  axe,  fling  by  the  spade  : 

Leave  in  its  track  the  toiling  plough ; 
The  rifle  and  the  bayonet-blade 

For  arms  like  yours  were  fitter  now  ; 
And  let  the  hands  that  ply  the  pen 

Quit  the  light  task,  and  learn  to  wield 
The  horseman's  crooked  brand,  and  rein 

The  charger  on  the  battle-field. 

Our  country  calls  ;  away  !  away  ! 

To  where  the  blood-stream  blots  the  green. 
Strike  to  defend  the  gentlest  sway 

That  Time  in  all  his  course  has  seen. 
See,  from  a  thousand  coverts  —  see 

Spring  the  armed  foes  that  haunt  her  track ; 
They  rush  to  smite  her  down,  and  we 

Must  beat  the  banded  traitors  back. 

Ho !  sturdy  as  the  oaks  ye  cleave, 
And  moved  as  soon  to  fear  and  flight, 

Men  of  the  glade  and  forest !  leave 
Your  woodcraft  for  the  field  of  fight. 
117 


People  now- 
a-days  do  not 
realize  the 
enthusiasm 
with  which 
people  went 
into  the  Civil 
War.     Mr. 
Bryant,  jour- 
nalist and 
poet,  was  one 
of  many  to 
arouse  their 
countrymen 
with  their 
most  glowing 
thoughts. 


i  i  8     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  29 

The  arms  that  wield  the  axe  must  pour 

An  iron  tempest  on  the  foe ; 
His  serried  ranks  shall  reel  before 

The  arm  that  lays  the  panther  low. 

And  ye  who  breast  the  mountain  storm 

By  grassy  steep  or  highland  lake, 
Come,  for  the  land  ye  love,  to  form 

A  bulwark  that  no  foe  can  break. 
Stand,  like  your  own  gray  cliffs  that  mock 

The  whirlwind  ;  stand  in  her  defence  : 
The  blast  as  soon  shall  move  the  rock 

As  rushing  squadrons  bear  ye  thence. 

And  ye,  whose  homes  are  by  her  grand 

Swift  rivers,  rising  far  away, 
Come  from  the  depth  of  her  green  land 

As  mighty  in  your  march  as  they ; 
As  terrible  as  when  the  rains 

Have  swelled  them  over  bank  and  bourne, 
With  sudden  floods  to  drown  the  plains 

And  sweep  along  the  woods  uptorn. 

And  ye  who  throng,  beside  the  deep, 

Her  ports  and  hamlets  of  the  strand, 
In  number  like  the  waves  that  leap 

On  his  long  murmuring  marge  of  sand,    * 
Come,  like  that  deep,  when,  o'er  his  brim, 

He  rises,  all  his  floods  to  pour, 
And  flings  the  proudest  barks  that  swim, 

A  helpless  wreck  against  his  shore. 

Few,  few  were  they  whose  swords,  of  old, 
Won  the  fair  land  in  which  we  dwell ; 

But  we  are  many,  we  who  hold 
The  grim  resolve  to  guard  it  well. 


no.  30]         Our   Country 's   Call 

Strike  for  that  broad  and  goodly  land, 
Blow  after  blow,  till  men  shall  see 

That  Might  and  Right  move  hand  in  hand, 
And  glorious  must  their  triumph  be. 


I  I 


30.    Camp  Life 

By  James  Kendall  Hosmer  (1862) 

Nov.  23,  1862.     I  propose  to  keep  a  diary  of  my  Mr.  Hosmer, 
soldiering,  and  am  now  making  my  first  entry.    Brother  *s  a  sold'er 
Ed  and  I  are  going  to  the  war  together.     He  is  nine-  musket, 
teen,  and  leaves  a  clerk's  desk  in  an  insurance-office.   wrote  several 
I  am  older,  and  leave  a  minister's  study.     It  is  the  teiiusboth 
Fifty-second  Regiment  of  Massachusetts  Volunteers,   howthesoi- 
I  am  in  our  little  tent  at  Camp  N.  P.  Banks,  not  far  ^r thV0eudght 
from  Jamaica,  in  Long  Island.     The  tent  is  perhaps  and  why  he' 
eight  feet  square,  and  meant  for  seven  soldiers.     A   r?1  into  the 
leg  of  ham  partly  devoured,  with  gnawed  loaves  of 
bread  and  some  tin  cups,   lie  just  at  my  right  foot. 
Corporal   Buffum,  six  feet   and  two   or  three   inches 
tall,  is  writing  home,  just  at  the  other  foot.     Joseph 
McGill  is  sleeping,  wrapped  up  in  his  rubber  blanket. 
The  floor  of  the  tent,  at  the  sides,  is  covered  with 
knapsacks,  blankets,   and   soldiers'   furniture.     Sillo- 
way,  a  black-whiskered,  fine-looking  soldier,  put  his 
head  in,  but,  to  my  relief,  does  not  enter ;  for  where 
could  I  put  him  while  I  write  ? 

We  left  Camp  Miller,  where  the  Fifty-second  organ- 
ized, two  or  three  days  ago.  For  the  first  time,  the 
knapsacks,  full-loaded,  were  packed  on,  the  canteens 
were  filled,  the  haversacks  were  crammed  with  two 
days'  rations.     It  was  a  heavy  load  as  we  set  off  in 


i  2  o     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  3o 

a  cold  November  rain,  nearly  a  thousand  of  us.  It 
rained  harder  and  harder :  but  Greenfield  streets 
were  filled  with  people ;  and  the  nearer  we  came  to 
the  depot,  the  thicker  the  crowd.  Then  came  the 
last  parting  and  hand-shaking :  eyes  were  full,  and 
lips  on  a  tremble. 

At  midnight  we  reached  New  Haven.  Ed  had  been 
on  guard  at  the  car-door  in  the  drizzle,  and  now  came 
off  duty.  We  trundled  on  to  the  steamboat-wharf, 
climbed  out,  and  formed  in  two  lines ;  many  of  the 
boys  turned  round  for  their  first  sight  and  sniff  at 
salt-water.  The  Traveller  was  at  hand,  aboard  which, 
rank  after  rank,  we  marched,  —  on  top,  between  decks, 
into  cabin  below,  and  saloon  above. 

The  morning  was  gray  and  wet.  It  poured  as  we 
stood  on  the  forward  deck ;  but  my  rubber  blanket  shed 
the  rain,  and  my  havelock,  of  the  same  material,  kept 
it  off  head  and  neck.  On  upper  deck  and  lower  deck, 
and  through  every  window,  one  could  see  the  crowding 
hundreds,  —  curious  faces,  bearded  and  smooth  ;  drip- 
ping blankets  and  caps ;  the  white  string  of  the  can- 
teen crossing  the  band  of  the  haversack  upon  the 
breast.  Stout  fellows  they  were,  almost  all;  the 
pick,  for  spirit  and  strength,  of  two  counties. 

Past  great  ships,  past  iron-clads  fitting  out  at  the 
Novelty  Works,  past  the  Navy  Yard,  now  down 
between  the  two  great  cities  and  around  the  Battery, 
and  stop  at  a  North-river  pier,  —  haversack  on  one 
shoulder,  canteen  on  the  other  we  go.  "  Now,  Silas 
Dibble,  hook  on  my  knapsack,  and  I  will  hook  on 
yours ;  "  a  rubber  blanket  is  over  all ;  then  comes  a 
helmet,  with  the  long  flap  down  on  the  shoulders. 
The  march  begins.  Dirty  and  hungry  we  go  through 
the  muddy  streets. 


no.  30]  Camp  Life  121 

We  tramp  in  over  the  old  Union  race-track  at 
length,  upon  the  enclosed  grassy  space,  and  are  at 
our  camp-ground.  It  is  dreary,  dismal,  miserable. 
There  are  no  overcoats ;  we  are  all  perspiration  with 
our  march  under  the  burden  and  there's  no  chance 
for  tea  or  coffee,  or  any  thing  warm  :  it  is  a  sorry 
prospect,  boys,  for  comfort  to-night.  But  never  mind. 
Behold  how  the  Yankee  will  vindicate  himself  in  the 
face  of  the  worst  fortune  !  Fences  are  stripped  of 
rails ;  and  we  have  blazing  fires  in  no  time,  which 
make  the  inhospitable,  leaden  sky  speedily  blush  for 
itself.  Rubber  blankets  are  tacked  together,  and 
tents  extemporized.  Corporal  Buffum,  Ed,  and  I, 
strike  a  solemn  league.  We  find  two  sticks  and  a 
long  rail.  We  drive  the  sticks  into  the  ground  for 
uprights,  then  lay  the  rail  on  top.  Buffum  and  I  tack 
our  blankets  together  with  strings  through  the  eyelet- 
holes.  We  place  the  joining  along  the  cross-timber, 
letting  the  blankets  slope  away,  roof-fashion,  on  each 
side  toward  the  ground,  fastening  them  at  the  edges 
with  pegs,  and  strings  straining  them  tight.  Then  we 
spread  Ed's  rubber  on  the  ground  underneath,  put  our 
luggage  at  one  end,  and  crowd  in  to  try  the  effect.  We 
have  to  pack  in  tight,  big  Buffum  and  Ed  not  leaving 
much  room  for  me ;  but  the  closer  the  better.  The 
north-wind  blows,  and  the  air  threatens  snow.  We 
survey  our  wigwam  with  great  admiration.  I  lie 
down  for  the  night  with  revolver  and  dirk  strapped 
one  on  each  side,  unwashed,  bedraggled,  and  armed 
like  Jack  Sheppard  himself.  We  freeze  along  through 
the  hours.  We  get  into  one  another's  arms  to  keep 
warm  as  we  can,  and  shiver  through  till  daylight. 

When  morning  comes,  all  is  confusion.  The  regi- 
ment looks  as  if  it  had  rained  down.     It  is  clear,  but 


122     In  and  Out  of  the  Army     [No.  3q 

raw.  There  is  no  chance  to  wash  now,  nor  all  day 
long.  Our  tents  come.  We  pitch  them  in  long  rows, 
well  ordered;  floor  them  from  fences  near  by;  and 
carpet  them  with  straw  and  marsh  hay.  Six  or 
seven  of  us  pack  in  here  like  sardines  in  a  box,  lying 
on  our  sides,  "spoon-fashion." 

Our  guns  were  issued  to  us  the  other  day ;  and  are 
beautiful  pieces,  of  the  most  improved  pattern,  —  the 


CAMP    SCENE. 


Springfield  rifled  musket  of  1862.  Mine  is  behind  me 
now,  dark  black-walnut  stock,  well  oiled,  so  that  the 
beauty  of  the  wood  is  brought  out,  hollowed  at  the 
base,  and  smoothly  fitted  with  steel,  to  correspond 
exactly  to  the  curve  of  the  shoulder,  against  which 
I  shall  have  to  press  it  many  and  many  a  time.  The 
spring  of  the  lock  is  just  stiff  and  just  limber  enough; 
the  eagle  and  stamp  of  the  Government  are  pressed 


no.  30]  Camp  Life  123 

into  the  steel  plate ;  the  barrel  is  long  and  glistening, 
and  so  bright,  that  when  I  present  arms,  and  bring  it 
before  my  face,  I  can  see  nose  and  spectacles  and  the 
heavy  beard  on  lip  and  chin,  which  already  the  camp 
is  beginning  to  develop.  Then  there  is  the  bayonet, 
straight  and  tapering,  smooth  to  the  finger  as  a  surface 
of  glass,  and  coming  to  a  point  sharp  as  a  needle. 

We  have  dress-parades  now ;  and,  the  other  after- 
noon, I  was  a  spectator  instead  of  taking  part.  The 
Fifty-second  is  formed  four  deep.  I  have  often  seen 
them  in  line  at  Camp  Miller ;  but  now  we  have  our 
arms,  and  look  more  like  soldiers.  They  are  still  as 
men  can  be  at  the  parade  rest.  Now,  from  the  right 
flank,  come  marching  the  drums  down  the  line ;  slow 
time;  every  eye  to  the  front;  the  colonel,  hand  upon 
sword-hilt,  facing  them  all,  —  tall,  straight,  soldierly, 
his  silver  eagles  on  each  shoulder.  The  drums  have 
reached  the  end  of  the  line,  and  turn.  First  comes  a 
long,  brisk  roll,  thrice  repeated ;  then  back  along  the 
line  with  quicker  time  and  step,  round  the  right  flank 
again,  past  the  adjutant;  the  thrice-repeated  roll  again 
sounding  muffled,  as  it  comes  to  me  through  the  now 
intervening  line  of  men,  —  a  peculiar  throb,  as  if  it 
were  inside  of  the  head.  It  is  the  adjutant's  turn. 
He  is  at  his  place  in  front  of  the  line.  "  First  ser- 
geants to  the  front  and  centre ! "  Ten  soldiers,  straight, 
sash  at  waist,  march  forward,  and,  one  by  one,  report. 
It  is  Ed's  turn  now,  tall,  fine,  bright-eyed  soldier  that 
he  is.  His  gloved  hand  gives  the  salute ;  and  I  hear 
him,  through  the  music  of  other  regiments,  "  Fourth 
company  all  present  or  accounted  for."  Buttoned  up 
to  the  chin  he  is,  in  his  dress-coat;  his  sash,  with 
bright  revolver  belt,  outside ;  his  gun  at  his  shoulder 
with   true  martial  poise.     "  First  sergeants  to   your 


124     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  3o 

posts  !  "  It  is  the  turn  of  the  commissioned  officers. 
They  step  out  to  the  front,  in  full-dress  uniform,  a  fine- 
looking  row  of  men  ;  then  march  forward,  with  brave, 
unanimous  step,  in  a  brilliant,  glittering  line.  It  is 
over,  and  visitors  near  step  up  to  me  to  inquire  about 
the  regiment.  I  feel  proud  of  the  men,  proud  of  the 
colonel,  proud  of  the  brilliant  officers  who  have  marched 
forward  to  salute  in  concert,  —  the  white-gloved  hands 
simultaneously  at  the  visor.  Back  go  the  companies 
into  the  streets  of  the  camp,  under  the  first  sergeants. 
I  am  proud  to  see  how  Ed  gets  his  company  by  the 
flank,  and  promptly  manoeuvres  them. 

We  have  had  a  flag  presented  to  us ;  but  it  is  too 
splendid  and  heavy  for  actual  service.  Our  real  flag, 
for  service,  is  more  modest,  and  yet  handsome ;  of 
silk,  floating  from  a  staff  of  ash  with  the  name  of  the 
regiment  printed  in  gold  upon  one  of  the  crimson 
stripes.  As  the  wind  comes  off  the  bay  to  us  at 
battalion-drill,  the  heavy  silk  brushes  my  cheek. 
We  shall  know  each  other  well  during  these  coming 
months.  I  take  off  my  bayonet,  and  invert  it,  that  it 
may  not  wound  the  flag  it  is  to  defend.  We  have  also 
the  white  flag  of  Massachusetts,  the  Indian  and  up- 
lifted sword  upon  a  snowy  field ;  plain  enough,  when 
the  breeze  smooths  it  out,  for  the  senior  captain  to 
see  from  his  post  on  the  right  flank,  and  Sergeant 
Jones,  right  general  guide,  whose  post  is  still  farther 
off.  When  drill  is  over,  we  must  guard  our  charge  to 
the  colonel's  tent,  roll  the  crimson  and  azure  folds 
carefully  about  the  staff,  and  put  them  under  shelter ; 
then  our  day's  work  is  done. 


no.  31]  On  the  Way  125 

31.   On  the  Way  to  War 

By  James  Kendall  Hosmer    (1832) 

Camp  down,  soldiers,  where  you  can  !  This  cabin 
is  stripped  of  furniture  and  carpet :  a  mirror  and  the 
white  paint  are  the  only  things  to  remind  one  of  the 
old  elegance  of  the  packet.  I  glance  at  the  glass  as 
we  crowd  in.  Which  am  I  among  the  bearded,  blue- 
coated,  hustling  men  ?  I  hardly  know  myself,  sun- 
burnt and  muddied;  the  "  52,"  on  the  cap  top,  shows 
out  in  the  lantern  light.  Sergeant  Warriner,  of  Com- 
pany A,  a  gentlemanly  fellow,  left  guide,  whose  elbow 
rubs  mine  at  battalion-drill,  offers  me  a  place  in  a 
bunk  he  has  found  empty  in  one  of  the  staterooms. 
Bias  Dickinson,  my  wise  and  jovial  file-leader,  bunks 
over  me.  There  is  room  for  another :  so  I  go  out  to 
where  McGill  is  wedged  into  the  crowing  mass,  and 
extract  him  as  I  would  a  tooth.  Gradually  the  hubbub 
is  quelled.  The  mass  of  men,  like  a  river  seeking  its 
level,  flows  into  bunk  and  stateroom,  cabin  and  galley. 
Then  the  floors  are  covered,  and  a  few  miserable  ones 
hold  on  to  banisters  and  table-legs,  and  at  last  the 
regiment  drops  into  an  uncomfortable  sleep. 

We  woke  up  the  morning  after  we  came  aboard,  — 
Warriner,  Bias,  and  I.  Company  D  woke  up  generally 
on  the  cabin-floor.  Poor  Companies  H  and  F  woke 
up  down  in  the  hold.  What  were  we  to  do  for  break- 
fast ?  Through  the  hatchway  opposite  our  stateroom- 
door,  we  could  see  the  waiters  in  the  lower  cabin  set- 
ting tables  for  the  commissioned  officers.  Presently 
there  was  a  steam  of  coffee  and  steaks  ;  then  a  long 
row  of  shoulder-straps,  and  a  clatter  of  knives  and 


Non-com- 
missioned 
officers. 


skids  =  large 
fenders  hung 
over  a  vessel's 


126     In  and  Out  of  the  Army     [No.  3i 

forks  ;  we,  meanwhile,  breakfastless,  were  undergoing 
the  torments  of  Tantalus. 

But  we  cannot  make  out  a  very  strong  case  of  hard- 
ship. Beef,  hard-bread,  and  coffee  were  soon  ready. 
Bill  Hilson,  in  a  marvellous  cap  of  pink  and  blue,  cut 
up  the  big  joints  on  a  gun-box.  The  non-coms,  whose 
chevrons  take  them  past  the  guard  amidships,  went 
out  loaded  with  the  tin  cups  of  the  men  to  Henry 
Hilson,  —  out  through  cabin-door,  through  greasy, 
crowded  passage-way,  behind  the  wheel,  to  the  galley, 
where,  over  a  mammoth,  steaming  caldron,  Henry, 
through  the  vapor,  pours  out  coffee  by  the  pailful. 
He  looks  like  a  beneficent  genius. 

I  have  been  down  the  brass-plated  staircase,  into 
the  splendors  of  the  commissioned-officers'  cabin,  — 
really  nothing  great  at  all,  but  luxurious  as  compared 
with  our  quarters,  already  greasy  from  rations,  and 
stained  with  tobacco-juice,  and  sumptuous  beyond 
words,  as  compared  with  the  unplaned  boards  and 
tarry  odors  of  the  quarters  of  the  privates.  Have  I 
mentioned  that  now  our  places  are  assigned  ?  The 
non-coms  —  that  is  non-commissioned,  have  assigned 
to  them  an  upper  cabin,  with  staterooms,  over  the 
quarters  of  the  officers,  in  the  after-part  of  the  ship. 
The  privates  are  in  front,  on  the  lower  decks,  and  in 
the  hold.  Now  I  speak  of  the  cabin  of  the  officers. 
The  hatches  are  open  above  and  below,  to  the  upper 
deck  and  into  the  hold.  Down  the  hatch  goes  a  dirty 
stream  of  commissary-stores,  gun-carriages,  rifled-can- 
non,  and  pressed  hay,  within  an  inch  or  two  of  cut- 
glass,  gilt-mouldings,  and  mahogany.  The  third  mate, 
with  voice  coarse  and  deep  as  the  grating  of  heavy 
packages  along  the  skids,  orders  this  and  that,  or  bays 
inarticulately  in  a  growl  at  a  shirking  sailor. 


no.  31]  On  the  Way  127 

Five  sergeants  of  our  company,  and  two  corporals  side  to  pro- 
of us,  have  a  stateroom  together,  —  perhaps  six  feet  !ect  n  in 

•  -r»      •  1  rr  t  •  handling 

by  eight.     Besides  us,  two  officers    servants  consider  cargo, 
that  they  have  a  right  here. 

Each  man  now  has  his  place  for  the  voyage  as- 
signed him  :  so,  if  you  can  climb  well,  let  us  go  down, 
and  see  the  men  below.  It  is  right  through  the  damp, 
crowded  passage  at  the  side  of  the  paddle-wheel  first. 
Here  is  a  fence  and  a  gate,  impervious  to  the  private  ; 
but  in  his  badge  the  corporal  possesses  the  potent 
golden  bough  which  gains  him  ingress  through  here 
into  Hades.  Just  amidships,  we  go  in  through  a 
door  from  the  upper  deck.  This  first  large  space  is 
the  hospital ;  already  with  thirty  or  forty  in  its  rough, 
unplaned  bunks.  From  this,  what  is  half-stairway 
and  half-ladder  leads  down  the  hatch.  A  lantern  is 
burning  here ;  and  we  see  that  the  whole  space  be- 
tween decks,  not  very  great,  is  filled  with  bunks,  — 
three  rows  of  them  between  floor  and  ceiling,  — 
stretching  away  into  darkness  on  every  hand,  with 
two-feet  passages  winding  among  them. 

I  hear  the  salutes  of  men,  but  cannot  see  their  faces  ; 
for  it  is  beyond  the  utmost  efforts  of  the  little  lantern 
to  show  them  up.  Presently  I  go  on  through  the 
narrow  passage,  with  populous  bunks,  humming  with 
men,  on  each  side,  —  three  layers  between  deck  and 
deck.  I  can  only  hear  them,  and  once  in  a  while 
dimly  see  a  face.  At  length  we  come  to  a  railing, 
over  which  we  climb,  and  descend  another  ladder,  into 
regions  still  darker,  —  submarine,  I  believe,  or,  at  any 
rate,  on  a  level  with  the  sea.  Here  swings  another 
lantern.  Up  overhead,  through  deck  after  deck,  is  a 
skylight,  which  admits  light,  and  wet  too,  from  above. 
It  is  like  looking  from  the  bottom  of  a  well. 


128     In  and  Out  of  the  Army     [No.  3i 

As  above,  so  here  again,  there  are  three  tiers  of 
bunks,  with  the  narrow  passages  among  them.  The 
men  lie  side  by  side,  with  but  two  feet  or  so  of  space ; 
but  are  in  good  spirits,  though  sepulchred  after  this 
fashion.  The  air  seems  not  bad.  It  is  dark  in  the 
day-time,  except  right  under  the  skylight.  A  fortnight 
or  so  from  now,  a  poor,  emaciated  crowd,  I  fear,  it 
will  be  proceeding  from  these  lower  deeps  of  the 
Illinois.  I  go  back  with  an  uneasy  conscience  to  our 
six  feet  by  eight  up  above,  so  infinitely  preferable 
to  these  quarters  of  the  privates,  though  five  big  ser- 
geants with  their  luggage  share  it  with  me,  and  two 
waiters  have  no  other  home ;  so  that  we  overflow 
through  door  and  window,  on  to  the  deck  and  floor 
outside. 

Ed  and  I  turn  in  at  half-past  eight,  lying  on  our 
sides,  and  interrupting  one  another's  sleep  with,  "Look 
out  for  your  elbow  !  "  "I  am  going  over  the  edge  !  " 
"You  will  press  me  through  into  the  Company  C 
bunks  !  "  This  morning  I  took  breakfast  in  the  berth, 
—  dining-room,  study,  and  parlor,  as  well.  There  is 
room  enough,  sitting  Turk-fashion,  and  bending  over. 

"  Sail  to-day  !  "  That  has  been  the  morning  song 
aboard  the  Illinois  ever  since  the  Fifty-second  piled  it- 
self into  its  darknesses.  It  was  so  Saturday,  Sunday,  and 
Monday.  We  came  to  believe  it  did  not  mean  any 
thing  :  so,  Tuesday  morning  being  fair,  Buffum  and  I 
got  permission  to  go  ashore,  smiling  at  the  superb 
joke  of  the  officer  when  he  warned  us  to  be  back  in  a 
couple  of  hours,  for  we  surely  sail  to-day.  But  when 
we  come  aboard  again,  the  anchor  was  really  up  ;  and 
the  Illinois,  no  longer  twirled  by  the  tide  about  its 
thumbs,  began  to  show  a  will  of  its  own,  and  was 
soon  moving  seaward  with  its  deeply  burdened  bosom 


no.  31]  On  the  Way  129 

and  swarming  decks.  Our  orders  were  sealed,  and 
the  colonel  could  not  open  them  until  twenty-four 
hours  after  sailing.  We  could  not  know,  then,  until 
the  morrow,  whither  the  wheels,  the  tide,  and  the 
strong  stern-wind,  were  bearing  us  ;  but  the  prow  was 
southward,  and  the  Fifty-second  was  content.  Distance 
washes  the  spire  of  Trinity  out  of  the  northern  sky  ; 
the  Narrows,  grim  with  forts  and  prisons,  now  grow 
narrower ;  and  soon  Sandy  Hook,  the  beckoning 
finger  which  the  old  Navesink  hills  fling  out  for  ever 
to  invite  inbound  ships,  lets  us  slide  past  its  curving 
knuckle  fairly  out  to  sea.  All  goes  well,  with  no 
motion  but  the  throb  of  the  engine.  They  light  the 
lanterns  on  the  wheel-house  and  in  the  fore-top  ;  they 
light  them  between-decks,  swinging  gently  while  a 
soldier  reads  his  Testament,  or  a  party  play  cards. 

I  resolve  I  will  try  anight  with  the  men  in  the  hold. 
Elnathan  Gunn,  the  old  soldier,  invites  me  to  share 
his  bed  and  board.  Life  on  a  transport  becomes  so 
simplified,  that  bed  and  board  become  one ;  the 
soldier  softening  his  plank  with  his  haversack  of  beef 
and  biscuit  for  a  mattress  and  pillow. 

'Tis  half-past  eight  at  night  as  I  climb  down  in  night 
rig, — blouse  and  knit  cap,  with  round  button  at  the  top, 
like  Charles  Lamb's  great  Panjandrum  himself.  It  is 
comfortable  ;  but  Ed's  fraternal  partiality  turns  to  dis- 
gust whenever  I  put  it  on.  I  stoop  low,  —  it  is  the 
lowest  tier  of  bunks,  —  climb  over  two  prostrate  men, 
then  lie  down  sandwiched  helplessly  between  two 
slices  of  timber  above  and  below,  where  I  go  to  sleep 
among  the  raw-head  and  bloody-bone  stories  of  Elna- 
than Gunn.  I  wake  up  at  midnight  hot  and  stifled, 
as  if  I  were  in  a  mine  caved  in.  "  Gunn,  give  me  my 
boots  !  "     Gunn  fishes  them  out  of  some  hole  in  the 


Charles  S. 
Halpine. 


130     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  32 

dark.  I  tug  at  the  straps,  half  stifled,  bump  my  head 
as  I  rise,  grovel  on  my  stomach  out  over  two  or  three 
snorers,  and  hurry  through  the  dark  for  the  upper 
deck,  thankful  that,  being  corporal,  I  can  have  quarters 
where  I  can  see  and  breathe ;  through  the  cabin, 
over  slumbering  drums  and  drummers,  —  for  the 
music,  too,  is  privileged  to  remain  above,  —  then  in 
by  the  side  of  Ed.  We  heard,  at  noon,  we  were  bound 
for  Ship  Island ;  and,  while  I  am  hoping  for  plenty 
of  air  and  good  weather  the  rest  of  the  voyage,  down 
shut  the  eyelids,  and  consciousness  is  guillotined  for 
the  night. 


32.    Song  of  the  Soldiers 

By  Private  Miles  O'Reilly  (1862) 

Comrades  known  in  marches  many, 
Comrades,  tried  in  dangers  many, 
Comrades,  bound  by  memories  many, 

Brothers  ever  let  us  be. 
Wounds  or  sickness  may  divide  us, 
Marching  orders  may  divide  us, 
But,  whatever  fate  betide  us, 

Brothers  of  the  heart  are  we. 

Comrades,  known  by  faith  the  clearest, 
Tried  when  death  was  near  and  nearest, 
Bound  we  are  by  ties  the  dearest, 

Brothers  evermore  to  be. 
And,  if  spared,  and  growing  older, 
Shoulder  still  in  line  with  shoulder, 
And  with  hearts  no  tbrill-the  colder, 

Brothers  ever  we  shall  be. 


no.  33]  A  Guerilla  Chief  1  3 

By  communion  of  the  banner,  — 
Crimson,  white,  and  starry  banner,  — 
By  the  baptism  of  the  banner, 

Children  of  one  Church  are  we. 
Creed  nor  faction  can  divide  us, 
Race  nor  language  can  divide  us, 
Still,  whatever  fate  betide  us, 

Children  of  the  Flag  are  we ! 


33.    A  Guerilla  Chief 

By  B.  Estvan  (1862) 

Nashville  was  as  good  as  lost ;  on  the  day  fol-  Colonel 
lowing  the  arrival  of  General  Albert  and  Sidney  John-  Est™nwas 
ston  he  was  obliged  to  fall  back  on  Murfreesborough.  officer. 
A  scandalous  scene  now  took  place  at  Nashville, 
not  easily  paralleled  in  modern  history.  General 
Johnston,  with  the  object  of  getting  away  with  his 
troops  unperceived,  had  quietly  marched  out  in  the 
night  from  that  town.  This  sudden  and  unexpected 
departure  created  great  consternation  and  confusion 
amongst  the  inhabitants  ;  the  tumult  reached  its  cli- 
max when  Governor  Harris  galloped  through  the 
streets  announcing  that  the  enemy  was  at  hand,  and 
that  every  man  who  was  capable  of  doing  so  should 
save  himself  by  flight.  All  the  offices,  courts  of  jus- 
tice, house  of  legislature,  where  the  members  were 
holding  a  session,  broke  up  ;  the  whole  population,  in 
fact,  was  in  a  state  of  the  most  feverish  excitement, 
and  every  one  prepared  to  leave  the  town.  The 
members  of  the  State  Government,  and  others  high 
in  office,  were  the  first  to  take  to  flight.     The  hasty 


132     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  33 

departure  of  the  members  of  the  Government  to  Mem- 
phis, and  the  retreat  of  General  Johnston  to  Mur- 
freesborough,  added  to  the  fear  that  the  enemy  would 
make  reprisals,  caused  almost  as  great  a  panic  as  if 
an  earthquake  had  taken  place.  Women  and  chil- 
dren ran  wailing  through  the  streets.  Trunks,  boxes, 
and  furniture  were  thrown  out  of  the  windows,  and 
lay  scattered  about  the  pavement.  It  was  as  if  the 
whole  population  had  gone  stark  mad.  Every  one 
was  shouting  and  running  about  not  knowing  where- 
fore. In  the  midst  of  this  scramble  and  hubbub  a 
shout  suddenly  arose.  "  The  enemy ;  the  enemy  is 
coming  !  " 

On  the  heights  above  the  town  a  body  of  troops 
was  really  in  sight.  They  advanced  slowly  and  cau- 
tiously, and  entered  the  town.  But  these  were  no 
hostile  troops ;  the  newcomers  proved  to  be  Floyd 
with  the  remnants  of  his  brigade.  As  cautious  as  an 
old  fox  who  feared  his  snare,  he  made  his  approach. 
The  noise  and  confusion,  and  the  number  of  persons 
taking  to  flight  had  arrested  his  attention,  and  dic- 
tated prudence.  As  soon  as  it  was  known  in  the  town 
that  the  troops  which  had  entered  were  not  those  of 
the  enemy,  but  Confederates,  with  the  brave  General 
Floyd  at  their  head,  the  despair  of  the  population  was 
turned  into  the  most  ridiculous  rejoicing.  The  Con- 
federates were  welcomed  as  victors  ;  provisions  and 
wine  were  brought  out  for  their  use ;  children  danced 
in  the  streets,  and  many  of  the  inhabitants,  who  had 
returned  to  the  town,  gathered  round  them  to  implore 
their  protection. 

When  the  soldiers,  after  having  refreshed  them- 
selves with  the  good  things  laid  before  them,  began 
to  saddle  their  horses   to    proceed   farther  on   their 


no.  33]  A  Guerilla  Chief  133 

march,    the    astounded    population    discovered    that 

these  were  not  troops  sent  to  protect  the  town,  but 

that  they  were  men  who,  themselves,  were  escaping 

from  the  enemy.     Fort  Donelson  had  fallen,  and  the   Fort  Donei- 

enemy  was  advancing  in  great   force  on  Nashville.   ^?n'  °n  the 

°  °     .  Cumberland 

Deep  curses  were  uttered  against  Floyd  and  his  men,  River,  was 
and  the  population  sought  to  make  up  for  the  time  caPtured  °y 
they  had  lost.  The  rabble  of  the  town,  who  only  Grant 
awaited  an  opportune  moment,  now  began  the  work  of 
plunder  and  robbery.  All  the  shops  that  contained 
food  or  drink  were  broken  into  ;  a  regular  scene  of 
looting  ensued.  Women  and  children,  laden  with 
stolen  goods,  were  running  about  in  all  directions, 
and  gangs  of  drunken  scoundrels  rolled  about  the 
deserted  streets.  The  black  population  streamed 
into  the  town  to  have  their  share  in  the  general  pil- 
lage, and,  though  more  than  one  had  his  brains 
knocked  out  for  his  pains,  many  had  the  opportunity 
of  making  a  large  booty.  Several  adherents  of  the 
Union,  who  resided  at  Nashville,  were  in  imminent 
danger  of  their  lives,  as  they  dreaded  an  attack  from 
the  mob.  Millions  of  dollars  worth  of  goods  were 
destroyed  or  carried  off  during  the  night;  and  the 
stock  of  provisions  which  the  Confederates  had  for 
months  stored  up  here  was  sacrificed.  In  fact  the 
total  destruction  of  Nashville  was  imminent,  if  the 
Federal  troops  did  not  soon  make  their  appearance 
to  save  it  from  so  deplorable  a  fate. 

In  the  night  the  news  spread  that  the  enemy's 
troops  had  arrived  outside  Nashville.  All  the  peace- 
ful citizens  who  had  remained  in  the  town  looked 
anxiously  forward  for  their  entrance.  Pistol  shots 
were  heard,  and  a  detachment  of  United  States  dra- 
goons galloped  into  the  town,  sabring  right  and  left 


134     In  an(t  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  33 

all  whom  they  met  in  the  streets.  The  rioters  and 
pillagers  fled  in  every  direction,  leaving  the  town  in 
the  possession  of  the  troops  and  of  the  honest  citi- 
zens who  had  not  fled.  A  few  hours  afterward,  large 
bodies  of  troops  under  General  Grant  entered  Nash- 
ville, and  soon  restored  order  and  tranquillity.  With 
astonishment  the  Federal  troops  must  have  looked  at 
the  closed  country  houses  and  villas,  which  seemed 
quite  deserted,  and  betrayed  no  sign  of  life  within  their 
walls  :  the  owners  had  fled  with  the  retiring  troops  of 
Floyd.  While  the  Federal  troops  took  quiet  posses- 
sion of  Nashville,  the  partisans  of  the  Confederates 
on  the  other  bank  were  preparing  for  resistance, 
under  the  leadership  of  John  Morgan,  a  man  who 
had  rendered  himself  famous  by  his  extraordinary 
feats  of  daring. 

Of  vulgar  extraction  and  of  no  education,  but  gifted 
with  extraordinary  courage  and  self-possession,  John 
Morgan  had  formed  a  body  of  men  of  his  own  stamp, 
who  preferred  fighting,  and  the  hardships  of  a  roving 
life,  to  any  peaceful  occupation.  His  band  roamed 
about  the  country  with  such  audacity  as  to  become  a 
perfect  dread  to  the  enemy.  Scarcely  a  day  passed 
without  some  daring  act  being  recorded  of  John  Mor- 
gan and  his  horsemen.  Although  he  and  his  band 
belonged,  properly  speaking,  to  General  Hardee's 
division,  and  his  duty  was  to  watch  the  enemy's  move- 
ments, he  much  preferred  doing  a  little  business  on 
his  own  account. 

One  day  he  proposed  to  his  men  to  make  a  raid 
upon  the  little  town  of  Gallatin,  twenty  miles  north 
of  Nashville,  then  occupied  by  the  enemy.  The  very 
idea  of  such  an  expedition  created  a  joyful  excitement 
amongst  his  desperate   followers,  and  like  lightning 


no.  33]  A  Guerilla  Chief  135 

they  fell  upon  the  town  and  took  possession  of  it. 
Whilst  his  men  were  robbing  and  plundering  to  their 
heart's  content,  Captain  Morgan  proceeded  to  the 
office  of  the  telegraph  in  the  expectation  of  finding 
important  despatches  there.  The  official  on  duty 
had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  what  was  going  on  in 
the  town,  and  when  Captain  Morgan  asked  him  with 
great  politeness  what  news  he  had  received,  the  agent 
took  him  for  an  officer  of  the  United  States  army, 
and  replied,  "  Nothing  particular ;  but  inquiries  are 
being  made  continually  respecting  that  rebel  bandit, 
Morgan.  But  if  he  should  ever  come  across  my  path 
I  have  pills  enough  to  satisfy  him  !  "  pulling  out  his 
revolver  as  he  said  this,  and  flourishing  it  in  the  air 
before  he  thrust  it  back  into  his  belt.  As  soon  as  he 
had  finished,  the  strange  officer  thundered  forth, 
" You  are  speaking  to  Captain  Morgan;  I  am  Mor- 
gan, you  miserable  wretch."  The  poor  official  sank 
on  his  knees,  and  with  the  fear  of  death  full  upon 
him,  sued  for  mercy.  "  I  will  not  hurt  you,"  retorted 
Morgan,  "but  send  off  this  despatch  at  once  to  Pren- 
tice, the  editor  of  the  Louisville  Journal. 

"  Mr.  Prentice  —  As  I  learn  at  this  telegraph  of- 
fice that  you  intend  to  proceed  to  Nashville,  perhaps 
you  will  allow  me  to  escort  you  there  at  the  head  of 
my  band  ? 

"John  Morgan." 

After  sending  off  this  friendly  invitation,  Morgan 
hastened  to  the  railway  station  to  see  the  train  come 
in.  In  a  few  minutes  it  came  up,  upon  which  Cap- 
tain Morgan  ordered  one  of  his  men,  with  pistol  in 
hand,  to  take  charge  of  the  engine  driver,  whilst  he 
examined  the  carriages,  and  proceeded  to  take    five 


136     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  33 

officers  prisoners.  He  then  had  all  the  cars  set  on 
fire,  and  filling  the  engine  with  turpentine,  tow,  and 
other  inflammable  matter,  stopped  up  the  vents,  and 
sent  it  back  on  fire  at  full  speed  toward  Nashville. 
The  engine,  however,  exploded,  after  going  a  few 
hundred  yards.  After  this  exploit,  Morgan  and  his 
men,  with  their  prisoners,  remounted  their  horses  and 
gained  the  camp  in  safety,  where  they  were  enthusi- 
astically welcomed  by  their  comrades. 

On  another  occasion  he  surprised  a  picket  of  six 
Federal  soldiers,  and  made  them  prisoners.  He  was 
quite  alone.  On  coming  across  them  he  went  straight 
up  to  the  corporal  in  command,  and,  passing  himself 
off  as  a  Federal  officer,  expressed  his  indignation  at 
their  slovenly  appearance,  and  ordered  them  to  lay 
down  their  muskets,  and  regard  themselves  as  under 
arrest.  The  order  was  obeyed ;  but  when  the  men 
saw  that  he  was  taking  them  in  a  contrary  direction, 
they  observed  that  they  were  going  the  wrong  road. 
"  Not  so,"  he  retorted  ;  "  I  am  Captain  Morgan,  and 
know  best  what  road  you  have  to  take."  These  little 
adventures,  amongst  many  of  a  similar  nature,  made 
his  name  well  known,  and  acquired  for  him  a  wide- 
spread  popularity. 


34.    Off  for  the  Front 

By  George  F.  No  yes  (1862) 

M'Dowell  is  marshalling  his  cohorts  at  Fredericks- 
burg, being  ordered  to  aid  the  peninsula  approaches 
of  M'Clellanby  moving  upon  Richmond;  and  to-day, 
May  22nd,  1862,  our  brigade  is  detached  from  the 
army  defending  Washington,  and  is  off  to  join  him. 


no.  34]  Offfor  the  Front  137 

Never  was  summons  more  welcome.  Tired  of  serv- 
ing the  country  under  the  shadow  of  the  Capitol,  with 
all  the  glow  of  untried  enthusiasm  and  all  the  igno- 
rance of  novices  of  war,  our  staff  had  really  begun  to 
fear  lest  the  fighting  would  all  be  over  before  we  could 
draw  our  maiden  swords.  Hope  paints  few  brighter 
visions  than  those  which  on  this  day  of  embarkation 
made  us  happy ;  and  now,  as  we  gallop  down  to  the 
wharf,  every  cheek  burns  with  pleasant  anticipations. 


A   BAGGAGE   WAGON. 


As  I  gaze  through  the  vista  of  our  actual  experiences, 
at  that  hour  of  hope  and  anticipated  victory,  this  day 
seems  to  me  like  a  dream. 

To  get  our  horses  safely  on  board  the  steamer  is  no 
easy  task,  for  wharf  and  deck  are  lumbered  up  with 
all  the  paraphernalia  of  a  campaign,  and  squads  of 
heavily-knapsacked  men  are  still  hurrying  on  board, 
all  jubilant  and  some  quite  intoxicated  with  patriotism 
and  poor  whiskey. 


138    In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  34 

Among  our  troops  all  ages  are  represented  :  here, 
a  beardless  boy,  his  brow  yet  warm  with  the  parental 
blessing,  and  next  him,  perhaps,  a  gray-haired  man, 
for  whom  a  comfortable  home  and  a  warm  chimney 
corner  seem  far  more  fitting  than  the  long  march  and 
bivouac  of  the  campaign.  But  these  are  the  days 
when  the  popular  enthusiasm  is  still  at  high  tide,  sub- 
merging town  and  country,  city  and  hamlet,  and  in- 
citing young  and  old,  sick  and  poor,  to  rally  round  the 
old  flag.  If  there  is  any  homesickness  beneath  these 
blue  uniforms,  it  cannot  long  resist  the  influx  of  the 
general  enthusiasm  :  it  is  soon  fused  and  lost  in  the 
general  hopefulness  and  joy.  "  On  to  Richmond  "  is 
the  watchword.  You  may  read  it  in  every  eye  about 
you. 

As  we  stand  a  while  on  the  upper  deck,  cast  your 
eye  at  the  stalwart  private  near  us,  that  you  may  know 
how  a  soldier  looks  in  full  war  rig.  The  square 
knapsack  on  his  back  is  crowned  with  a  great  roll  of 
blankets,  and  contains  his  entire  wardrobe  —  a  change 
of  clothes,  a  few  toilet  articles,  probably  a  little  Bible, 
and  certainly  a  keepsake  or  two  from  the  loved  ones 
at  home  ;  his  cartridge  box,  strapped  beneath,  holds 
only  a  few  rounds  of  ball  cartridge :  as  no  battle  is 
impending,  his  shoulders  are  festooned  with  his  shel- 
ter tent,  an  oblong  piece  of  thick  cotton  cloth,  com- 
pressed into  a  roll ;  his  haversack  is  stuffed  with  three 
days'  marching  rations ;  his  water  canteen  dangles  at 
the  other  side,  while  his  musket  is  stacked  with  the 
rest  in  the  centre  of  the  deck. 

Thus  he  carries  his  food,  and  drink,  and  clothing, 
and  canvas  house,  and  weapon  with  him  ;  he  may 
be  said,  indeed,  to  be  quite  independent  of  society. 
Musket  and  all,  his  equipment  weighs  sixty  pounds, 


no.  35]       The  Innocent  Deserter        139 


and  with  it  he  can  safely  march  from  fifteen  to  twenty 
miles  a  day. 

The  sergeants  have  picked  up  the  last  straggler  and 
marched  him  on  board,  the  last  horse  is  disposed  of, 
and  we  are  finally  off.  Taking  in  tow  several  trans- 
ports crowded  with  men,  horses  and  government 
stores,  gradually  we  gather  way,  cheer  after  cheer 
rings  out  from  the  crowded  wharf,  responded  to  lustily 
by  our  upper  deck,  the  band  strikes  up  "  Dixie,"  and 
so  we  say  farewell  to  Washington,  and  glide  slowly 
down  the  river.  In  less  than  thirty  days  we  expect 
to  be  in  Richmond,  and  fighting  is  as  yet  a  myth  we 
cannot  fully  realize ;  we  are  simply  embarked  on  a 
military  pleasure  excursion.  The  day  is  very  charm- 
ing, and  the  beautiful  Potomac  seems  disposed  to  ten- 
der us  a  most  hearty  and  pleasant  welcome. 


"  Dixie,"  the 
Confederate 
substitute  for 
"  Yankee 
Doodle." 


35.    The  Innocent  Deserter 

By  John  Esten  Cooke  (1862) 

I  was  sitting  on  my  horse  near  General  Stuart,  who 
had  put  in  the  skirmishers,  and  was  now  superintend- 
ing the  fire  of  his  artillery,  when  a  cavalry-man  rode 
up  and  reported  that  they  had  just  captured  a 
deserter. 

"  Where  is  he  ? "  was  Stuart's  brief  interrogatory. 

"Coming  yonder,  General." 

"  How  do  you  know  he  is  a  deserter  ?  " 

"One  of  my  company  knew  him  when  he  joined 
our  army." 

"  Where  is  he  from  ?  " 

"  Anglaize  county." 


Cooke  was  a 
Confederate 
officer. 
J.  E.  B.  Stu- 
art (com- 
monly called 
"  Jeb  ")  was 
the  most 
dashing  of 
the  Confed- 
erate cavalry- 
men. 


140     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  35 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  " 

"  Morton." 

"  Bring  him  up,"  said  Stuart  coldly,  with  a  lower- 
ing glance  from  the  blue  eyes  under  the  brown  hat 
and  black  feather.  As  he  spoke,  two  or  three 
mounted   men   rode   up   with  the   prisoner. 

I  can  see  him  at  this  moment  with  the  mind's  eye, 
as  I  saw  him  then  with  the  material  eye.  He  was  a 
young  man,  apparently  eighteen  or  nineteen  years  of 
age,  and  wore  the  blue  uniform,  tipped  with  red,  of  a 
private  in  the  United  States  Artillery.  The  singular 
fact  was  that  he  appeared  completely  at  his  ease. 
He  seemed  to  be  wholly  unconscious  of  the  critical 
position  which  he  occupied  ;  and  as  he  approached,  I 
observed  that  he  returned  the  dark  glance  of  Stuart 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  says,  "  What  do  you  find 
in  my  appearance  to  make  you  fix  your  eyes  upon  me 
so  intently  !  "  In  another  moment  he  was  in  Stuart's 
presence,  and  calmly,  quietly,  without  the  faintest 
exhibition  of  embarrassment,  or  any  emotion  what- 
ever, waited  to  be  addressed. 

Stuart's  words  were  curtest  of  the  curt. 

"  Is  this  the  man  ? "  he  said. 

"Yes,  General,"  replied  one  of  the  escort. 

"  You  say  he  is  a  deserter  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  I  knew  him  in  Anglaize  county,  when 
he  joined  Captain  Hollins's  company  ;  and  there  is  no 
sort  of  doubt  about  it,  General,  as  he  acknowledges 
that  he  is  the  same  person." 

"  Acknowledges  it !  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  acknowledges  that  he  is  Morton,  from  that 
county ;  and  that  after  joining  the  South  he  deserted." 

Stuart  flashed  a  quick  glance  at  the  prisoner,  and 
seemed   at  a   loss   to   understand  what   fatuity  had 


No.  35]       The  Innocent  Deserter        1 4. 1 

induced  him  to  testify  against  himself,  thereby  seal- 
ing his  fate.  His  gaze,  clear,  fiery,  menacing,  was 
returned  by  the  youth  with  apathetic  calmness.  Not 
a  muscle  of  his  countenance  moved,  and  I  now  had 
an  opportunity  to  look  at  him  more  attentively.  He 
was  even  younger  than  I  at  first  thought  him,  indeed, 
a  mere  boy.  His  complexion  was  fair;  his  hair 
flaxen  and  curling;  his  eyes  blue,  mild,  and  as  soft 
in  their  expression  as  a  girl's.  Their  expression,  as 
they  met  the  lowering  glances  of  Stuart,  was  almost 
confiding.  I  could  not  suppress  a  sigh,  so  painful 
was  the  thought  that  this  youth  would  probably  be 
lying  soon  with  a  bullet  through  his  heart. 

A  kinder-hearted  person  than  General  Stuart 
never  lived ;  but  in  all  that  appertained  to  his  pro- 
fession and  duty  as  a  soldier,  he  was  inexorable. 
Desertion,  in  his  estimation,  was  one  of  the  deadliest 
crimes  of  which  a  human  being  could  be  guilty ;  and 
his  course  was  plain,  his  resolution  immovable. 

"What  is  your  name?"  said  the  General  coldly, 
with  a  lowering  brow. 

"  Morton,  sir,"  was  the  response,  in  a  mild  and 
pleasing  voice,  in  which  it  was  impossible  to  discern 
the  least  trace  of  emotion. 

"Where  are  you  from?" 

"  I  belonged  to  the  battery  that  was  firing  at  you, 
over  yonder,  sir." 

The  voice  had  not  changed.  A  calmer  tone  I 
never  heard. 

"Where  were  you  born?"  continued  Stuart,  as 
coldly  as  before. 

"  In  Shelby,  Virginia,  sir." 

"  Did  you  belong  to  the  Southern  army  at  any 
time  ? " 


142     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  35 

"  Yes,  sir." 

The  coolness  of  the  speaker  was  incredible.  Stuart 
could  only  look  at  him  for  a  moment  in  silence,  so 
astonishing  was  this  equanimity  at  a  time  when  his 
life  and  death  were  in  the  balance.  Not  a  tone  of 
the  voice,  a  movement  of  the  muscles,  or  a  tremor  of 
the  lip  indicated  consciousness  of  his  danger.  The 
eye  never  quailed,  the  colour  in  his  cheek  never  faded. 
The  prisoner  acknowledged  that  he  was  a  deserter 
from  the  Southern  army  with  the  simplicity,  candour, 
and  calmness  of  one  who  saw  in  that  fact  nothing 
extraordinary,  or  calculated  in  any  manner  to  affect 
his  destiny  unpleasantly.  Stuart's  eye  flashed ;  he 
could  not  understand  such  apathy ;  but  in  war  there 
is  little  time  to  investigate  psychological  phenomena. 

"  So  you  were  in  our  ranks,  and  you  went  over  to 
the  enemy  ? "  he  said  with  a  sort  of  growl. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  was  the  calm  reply. 

"  You  were  a  private  in  that  battery  yonder  ? " 

"Yes,  sir." 

Stuart  turned  to  an  officer,  and  pointing  to  a  tall 
pine  near,  said  in  brief  tones : 

"  Hang  him  on  that  tree  !  " 

It  was  then  that  a  change  —  sudden,  awful,  hor- 
rible —  came  over  the  face  of  the  prisoner ;  at  that 
moment  I  read  in  the  distended  eyeballs  the  vision  of 
sudden  death.  The  youth  became  ghastly  pale;  and 
the  eyes,  before  so  vacant  and  apathetic,  were  all  at 
once  injected  with  blood,  and  full  of  piteous  fright. 
I  saw  in  an  instant  that  the  boy  had  not  for  a  single 
moment  realized  the  terrible  danger  of  his  position  ; 
and  that  the  words  "  Hang  him  on  that  tree ! "  had 
burst  upon  him  with  the  sudden  and  appalling  force 
of  a  thunderbolt.     He  had  evidently  regarded   him- 


no.  35]       The  Innocent   Deserter       143 

self  as  a  mere  prisoner  of  war ;  and  now  he  was 
condemned  to  death !  He  had  looked  forward,  doubt- 
less, to  mere  imprisonment  at  Richmond  until  regu- 
larly exchanged,  when  "  hang  him  on  that  tree ! " 
burst  upon  his  ears  like  the  voice  of  some  avenging 
Nemesis. 

Terrible,  piteous,  sickening,  was  the  expression  of 
the  boy's  face.  He  seemed  to  feel  already  the  rope 
around  his  neck ;  he  choked ;  when  he  spoke  his 
voice  sounded  like  the  death-rattle.  An  instant  of 
horror-struck  silence  ;  a  gasp  or  two  as  if  the  words 
were  trying  to  force  their  way  against  some  obstacle 
in  his  throat;  then  the  sound  came.  His  tones  were 
not  loud,  impassioned,  energetic,  not  even  animated. 
A  sick  terror  seemed  to  have  frozen  him ;  when  he 
spoke  it  was  in  a  sort  of  moan. 

"I  didn't  know,"  he  muttered  in  low,  husky  tones. 
"I  never  meant  —  when  I  went  over  to  Maryland  — 
to  fight  against  the  South.  They  made  me ;  I  had 
nothing  to  eat — I  told  them  I  was  a  Southerner  — 
and  so  help  me  God  I  never  fired  a  shot.  I  was  with 
the  wagons.     Oh!  General,  spare  me;  I  never " 

There  the  voice  died  out ;  and  as  pale  as  a  corpse, 
trembling  in  every  limb  —  a  spectacle  of  helpless  terror 
which  no  words  can  describe,  the  boy  awaited  his  doom. 

Stuart  had  listened  in  silence,  his  gaze  riveted 
upon  the  speaker ;  his  hand  grasping  his  heavy 
beard ;  motionless  amid  the  shell  which  were  burst- 
ing around  him.  For  an  instant  he  seemed  to  hesi- 
tate—  life  and  death  were  poised  in  the  balances. 
Then  with  a  cold  look  at  the  trembling  deserter,  he 
said  to  the  men  : 

"  Take  him  back  to  General  Lee,  and  report  the 
circumstances." 


1 44     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  3e 

With  these  words  he  turned  and  galloped  off ;  the 
deserter  was  saved,  at  least  for  the  moment. 

I  do  not  know  his  ultimate  fate ;  but  if  he  saw 
General  Lee  in  person,  and  told  his  tale>  I  think  he 
was  spared.  That  great  and  merciful  spirit  inflicted 
the  death-penalty  only  when  he  could  not  avoid  it. 

Since  that  day  I  have  never  seen  the  face  of  the 
boy  —  nor  even  expect  to  see  it.  But  I  shall  never 
forget  that  vision  of  sudden  death,  in  his  distended 
eyes,  as  Stuart's  cold  voice  ordered,  "  Hang  him  on 
that  tree." 


36.    The  Hunt  for  the  Scout 

By  John  Esten  Cooke  (1863) 

Among  the  numerous  scouts  employed  by  General 
Stuart,  none  was  braver  or  more  intelligent  than  a 
young  man  named  Frank  Sutledge.  He  certainly 
was  a  ranger  born.  He  loved  his  friends,  but  he 
loved  his  calling  better  still.  It  might  have  been  said 
of  him  that  man  delighted  him  not,  nor  woman  either. 
His  chief  delight  was  to  penetrate  the  dense  woods, 
assail  the  enemy  wherever  he  found  an  opening,  and 
inflict  upon  them  all  the  injury  in  his  power.  In  the 
eyes  of  the  scout  those  enemies  were  wolves,  and  he 
hunted  them :  now  and  then  they  returned  the  com- 
pliment. 

In  person  Sutledge  was  suited  to  his  calling ;  stout 
but  active ;  a  good  hand  with  pistol  and  sabre  ;  quick 
of  eye ;  and  with  nerves  which  no  peril  could  shake. 
Soldiers  generally  prefer  broad  daylight  and  an  open 
country  to  operate  in ;  Sutledge  liked  a  forest  where 
no  moon  shone.     When  he  found  it  necessary  to  pen- 


no.  36]         Hunt  for  the  Scout  145 

etrate  the  hostile  lines,  and  could  not  elude  the  watch- 
ful guardians  of  the  night,  his  habit  was  to  brace 
himself  in  his  stirrups,  draw  his  pistol,  and  to  the 
quick,  "  Halt !  who  goes  there  ?  "  shout,  "  Form  fours  ! 
draw  sabres !  charge ! "  to  an  imaginary  squadron 
behind  him,  and  pass  on  with  loud  yells,  firing  his 
pistol  as  he  advanced.  The  result  was,  generally, 
that  the  picket  fired  wildly  at  him,  and  then  fled 
before  the  tremendous  onslaught  of  "  rebel  cavalry," 
whereupon  the  adventurous  scout  passed  through  at 
a  thundering  gallop,  drove  the  picket  before  him,  and 
adroitly  slipping,  at  the  opportune  moment,  into  some 
by-path  of  the  woods,  was  within  the  lines.  When 
the  enemy  made  a  stand  at  the  next  rising  ground  to 
receive  the  expected  charge,  none  came.  When  they 
returned  to  look  for  Sutledge,  he  had  disappeared. 

It  was  in  November,  1863,  when  the  Federal  army 
lay  around  Culpeper  Court-House  and  Mitchell's  Sta- 
tion, that  Sutledge  was  sent  on  a  scout  to  ascertain  the 
number,  position,  and  movements  of  the  Federal 
forces.  Taking  with  him  two  companions,  he  crossed 
the  upper  Rapidan,  and  carefully  worked  his  way 
toward  Mitchell's  Station.  General  Meade  had  pushed 
forward  his  lines  to  this  point  a  few  days  before,  — 
or  rather  had  established  large  camps  there ;  it  was 
Sutledge's  mission  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  his  de- 
signs. 

In  due  time  the  small  party  reached  the  vicinity 
of  the  station,  and  it  now  became  necessary  to  take 
the  remainder  of  the  journey  on  foot.  They  accord- 
ingly dismounted,  and  leaving  their  horses  in  a  thick 
copse,  "snaked"  in  the  direction  of  a  large  Federal 
camp  near  at  hand,  taking  advantage  of  every  cover. 
In  this  manner  they  came  close  upon  the  camp,  and 


146     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  3e 

were  rewarded  with  a  sight  of  acres  of  canvas.  The 
size  of  the  encampments  enabled  Sutledge  to  form  a 
tolerably  accurate  estimate  of  the  amount  of  force 
which  General  Meade  had  concentrated  at  this  point ; 
he  passed  the  whole  day  thus  moving  cautiously 
around  the  spot,  thereby  discovering  all  which  a  mere 
reconnoissance  could  reveal,  and  began  to  look  for 
stragglers,  from  whom,  as  his  prisoners,  he  might 
derive  more  accurate    information  still. 

After  a  fatiguing  day,  Sutledge  and  his  party  lay 
down  in  the  woods  near  the  Federal  camp,  to  snatch 
an  hour's  sleep  before  proceeding  to  their  nocturnal 
work. 

Sutledge  had  selected  for  his  bivouac  a  retired  spot 
where  the  encircling  woods  gave  excellent  promise  of 
concealment,  and  the  covert  was  so  dense  as  to  set 
him  completely  at  his  ease.  Through  the  thick 
brushwood  no  glimmer  of  firelight  could  be  seen ; 
and  the  scouts  ventured  to  kindle  a  fire,  which  the 
chill  November  night  rendered  far  from  unacceptable. 
By  the  carefully  shaded  blaze  they  warmed  their  be- 
numbed fingers,  ate  their  supplies  of  hard  bread  and 
bacon,  and  spread  their  blankets  for  a  brief  sleep. 
Sutledge  took  off  his  shoes ;  laid  his  hat  at  his  head ; 
and  having  picked  up  somewhere  a  certain  "  Life  of 
Stonewall  Jackson,"  recently  published  in  Richmond, 
now  drew  it  from  his  haversack,  and  read  a  few  pas- 
sages by  the  firelight.  This  volume  must  have  pro- 
duced a  soothing  effect  upon  his  feelings,  for  in  a 
short  time  his  eyelids  drooped,  the  volume  fell  from 
his  hands,  and  he  sank  to  slumber.  His  companions 
were  already  snoring  by  his  side. 

They  slept  longer  than  they  designed  doing  —  in 
fact  throughout  the  entire  night.     The  weather,  which 


no.  36]         Hunt  for  the  Scout  147 

had  been  lowering  at  nightfall,  became  gradually 
more  threatening;  and  soon  an  imperceptible  drizzle 
began,  just  sufficient  to  wet  the  blankets  of  the 
sleepers,  but  not  to  chill  and  awake  them.  As  day 
drew  near,  a  squad  of  infantry  soldiers,  armed  with 
muskets,  came  from  the  adjoining  camp  ;  and  this 
party,  on  their  way  to  forage  for  butter,  eggs,  poultry, 
and  other  desirable  components  of  a  military  break- 
fast, stumbled  on  the  slumbering  scouts. 

The  first  intimation  which  Sutledge  had  of  the 
danger  which  menaced  him  was,  he  declared,  an  in- 
stinctive feeling  that  some  dangerous  foe  was  near ; 
and  this  even  before  he  woke.  He  was  not  long, 
however,  to  remain  in  doubt,  or  be  compelled  to  ques- 
tion his  instincts.  He  opened  his  eyes  to  find  the 
blanket  suddenly  drawn  away  from  his  face,  and  to 
hear  a  harsh  and  sarcastic  voice  exclaim  :  "  How  are 
you,  Johnny  Reb  ?  Come,  get  up,  and  we  will  give 
you  more  comfortable  accommodations  than  out  here 
in  the  rain  !  " 

Sutledge  was  wide-awake  in  an  instant,  and  through 
his  half-closed  lids  reconnoitred,  counting  his  op- 
ponents. They  were  six  in  number,  all  armed  and 
ready.  The  situation  looked  ugly.  With  his  com- 
panions wide-awake  and  on  the  alert  there  might  have 
been  some  ground  for  hope ;  but  they  were  slumber- 
ing like  the  Seven  Sleepers,  and  in  utter  unconscious- 
ness of  danger.  As  to  Sutledge  himself,  he  was  in 
their  very  grasp,  and  practically  disarmed ;  for  it  was 
obvious  that  at  the  first  movement  which  he  made  to 
draw  his  pistol  from  the  holster  around  his  waist,  the 
six  muskets,  cocked  and  pointing  at  his  breast,  would 
be  discharged  as  one  piece,  and  his  body  riddled 
with  bullets. 


148     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  3e 

The  situation  was  depressing  :  Sutledge  and  his 
companions  were  in  a  veritable  trap.  The  least 
movement  which  he  made  would  at  once  put  an  end 
to  him,  if  six  balls  through  the  body  could  do  so  ;  and 
it  was  obviously  necessary  to  surrender  at  once  or 
betake  himself  to  strategy.  The  first  was  out  of 
the  question,  for   Sutledge   had   made  up  his   mind 


Asa 


THE  SCOUT. 


never  to  surrender,  had  indeed  sworn  a  solemn  oath 
not  to  do  so  under  any  circumstances ;  the  second 
alternative  remained.  A  ruse  had  already  suggested 
itself  to  his  quick  and  daring  mind ;  and  this  he  now 
proceeded  instantly  to  carry  out.  To  the  sneering 
address  of  his  opponent  bidding  him  get  up,  he  made 


no.  37]  Escape  of  the  Scout  149 

no  immediate  reply,  but  again  closed  his  eyes,  pulled 
the  blanket  up  again  over  his  shoulders,  and  turning 
his  back,  muttered  in  a  sleepy  voice  :  "  Oh  !  go  away, 
and  let  me  sleep,  will  you  !  " 

This  reply  highly  tickled  his  adversaries ;  and  so 
much  did  they  relish  the  evident  impression  of  the 
Johnny  Reb  that  he  was  among  his  own  comrades 
in  the  Confederate  camp,  that  they  shook  all  over  in 
the  excess  of  their  mirth.  Sutledge  was  a  dangerous 
man,  however,  to  jest  with.  While  his  opponents 
were  thus  indulging  their  merriment,  and  highly  en- 
joying the  surprise  and  mortification  he  would  feel 
when  awake  to  the  real  nature  of  the  situation,  Sut- 
ledge was  busy  executing  the  plan  which  he  had  de- 
termined upon.  Pulling  his  blanket  still  further  over 
his  head,  he  drew  a  long  laboured  breath,  turned  as 
men  do  languidly  in  slumber,  and  cautiously  moved 
his  hand  beneath  the  blanket  toward  the  pistol  in  his 
belt.  The  hand  slowly  stole  downwards  under  the 
cover,  approached  the  weapon,  and  then  he  had 
grasped  the  handle.  A  second  careless  movement 
extracted  the  pistol  from  the  holster ;  his  finger  was 
on  the  hammer  —  without  noise  the  weapon  was 
cocked. 


37.    The  Escape  of  the  Scout 

By  John  Esten  Cooke  (1863) 

The  scout  was  just  in  time.  The  squad  had  finished 
their  laugh,  enjoyed  their  little  comedy  sufficiently, 
and  now  designed  bringing  the  affair  to  an  end.  The 
leader  accordingly  stooped  down  and  dragged  away 
the  blanket  —  when  a  shot  followed,  with  the  muzzle 


150     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  37 

of  the  pistol  upon  his  breast,  and  he  fell  forward 
dead,  covering  Sutledge  with  his  blood.  The  scene 
which  followed  was  brief.  The  rest  of  the  squad 
levelled  their  muskets  at  the  scout,  and  fired  with 
the  muzzles  nearly  touching  him,  but  he  was  wounded 
by  none.  The  body  of  their  companion  lying  across 
him  received  the  larger  portion  of  the  balls ;  and 
Sutledge  rose  to  his  feet,  armed  with  his  deadly  re- 
volver, which  still  contained  four  charges.  These 
he  fired  in  succession  rapidly,  but  with  good  aim,  and 
two  of  the  five  remaining  men  were  wounded.  The 
three  others,  finding  their  guns  discharged,  dropped 
them,  and  hastily  ran  toward  the  Federal  camp. 

Sutledge's  companions  had  been  aroused  by  the 
firing,  but  were  of  no  assistance  to  him.  One  dis- 
gracefully fled  into  the  woods  without  firing  a  shot, 
and  the  other  had  committed  the  fatal  fault  of  allow- 
ing his  arms  to  become  wetted  by  the  rain.  When 
he  attempted  to  fire  his  pistol  the  cap  snapped,  and 
none  of  the  barrels  could  be  discharged. 

This  proved,  however,  of  no  great  importance. 
Sutledge  had  repulsed  the  whole  party  for  the  mo- 
ment, and  did  not  need  assistance.  What  remained 
for  them  now  was  a  rapid  retreat  from  the  dangerous 
locality.  The  sudden  firing,  and  the  men  running  in, 
had  alarmed  the  Federal  camp,  and  a  large  party 
were  seen  approaching  rapidly  to  take  vengeance  for 
the  blood  of  their  comrades.  Sutledge  accordingly 
hastened  to  retire,  and  disappeared  with  his  com- 
panion just  as  the  enemy  rushed  upon  the  area  near 
the  bivouac  fire.  In  this  sudden  change  of  base, 
stores  of  some  value  to  him  were  necessarily  aban- 
doned. In  fact,  he  was  compelled  to  leave  his  horse, 
hat,  shoes,  blanket,  and  "  Life  of  Jackson"  —  to  fly 


no.  37]         Escape  of  the  Scout  151 

bareheaded  and  in  his  stocking  feet  Even  thus 
lightened  of  all  superfluous  weight,  it  was  doubtful 
if  he  could  escape  ;  for  the  shouts  which  now  re- 
sounded as  he  ran  showed  that  the  enemy  were  pur- 
suing him  hotly,  with  the  evident  determination  of 
running  him  to  earth  and  destroying  him. 

In  a  few  moments  it  became  plain  to  Sutledge  that 
he  was  to  be  hunted  down. 

He  surveyed  his  position  at  a  glance,  and  estimated 
the  chances.  It  seemed  that  nothing  but  his  own 
quick  eye  and  knowledge  of  woodcraft  could  save 
him;  if  he  was  caught,  there  appeared  to  be  small 
likelihood  of  his  escaping  death.  He  felt  that  he 
would  probably  be  treated  as  a  guerilla,  if  not  as  a 
spy,  and  shot  without  benefit  of  clergy.  For  this 
reason  he  did  not  intend  to  surrender.  He  proposed 
to  escape  if  he  could ;  if  he  could  not,  he  would  sell 
his  life  as  dearly  as  possible. 

He  had,  however,  been  hunted  before,  and  his 
brave  heart  did  not  recoil  from  the  struggle.  Run- 
ning silently  with  bare  head  and  shoeless  feet  through 
the  woods,  he  paused  from  time  to  time  to  listen  to 
the  shouts  of  his  pursuers,  and  it  soon  became  obvious 
that  they  were  rapidly  approaching  upon  every  side. 

The  woods  were  open  —  without  undergrowth  — 
and  every  moment  was  now  precious.  Sutledge  re- 
doubled his  speed,  and  darting  through  the  wood, 
suddenly  found  himself  in  a  small  open  field,  in  the 
middle  of  which  rose  a  clump  of  pines,  one  of  which 
had  recently  fallen.  In  the  bushy  top  of  this  fallen 
tree  he  now  concealed  himself,  panting  from  his  long 
run,  and  listening  to  the  sound  of  his  approaching 
foes  closing  in  on  every  side.  To  fight  and  die 
seemed  his  only  resource ;  and  reloading  his  pistol, 


152     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  37 

he  grimly  waited  for  the  moment  which  should  find 
him  at  bay,  in  the  presence  of  his  enemies. 

He  did  not  wait  long.  A  few  minutes  only  had 
elapsed  when  a  party  of  three  or  four  Federals  en- 
tered the  little  area,  and  approached  the  clump  of 
pines.  They  passed  close  to  the  scout,  looking  every- 
where for  traces  of  him ;  but  he  crouched  down,  held 
his  breath,  and  they  seemed  about  to  prosecute  their 
search  in  some  other  direction.  Sutledge  was  indeed 
congratulating  himself  upon  his  safety,  when,  raising 
his  head,  he  caught  the  eye  of  one  of  the  enemy,  who 
had  lingered  behind  the  rest,  fixed  steadily  upon  him. 
He  was  discovered ;  and  starting  to  his  feet,  was 
greeted  with  the  shout,  "  Here  he  is  !  "  which  was 
instantly  echoed  by  a  hundred  voices. 

Sutledge  now  saw  that  his  life  hung  upon  a  thread. 
Unless  he  could  force  his  way  through  the  cordon 
hemming  him  in,  he  was  lost.  He  was  unwilling  to 
waste  the  loads  in  his  pistols  before  the  final  struggle 
took  place  —  the  last  desperate  struggle  which  was 
to  terminate  all.  But  that  conflict  now  seemed  about 
to  take  place. 

For  a  single  instant  the  scout  and  his  foes  stood 
looking  at  each  other,  and  neither  made  any  move- 
ment to  fire.  In  presence  of  this  desperate  man,  the 
enemy  seemed  averse  to  the  encounter,  and  waited 
for  their  comrades  to  come  up.  This  short  pause 
gave  the  scout  an  opportunity  to  decide  upon  his 
course.  If  he  could  only  secure  a  short  start, — if 
he  were  only  mounted  !  His  feet  were  bruised  and 
sore,  his  strength  greatly  diminished  by  the  close, 
hot  chase.  Oh !  for  a  horse  to  charge  them  and 
break  through,  as  he  felt  he  could  though  they  were 
forty   deep!      As   the    thought   flashed   through    his 


no.  37]         Escape  of  the  Scout  153 

mind,  his  eyes  fell  on  a  mule  which  was  grazing  in 
the  field  not  far  from  him.  To  dart  to  the  animal 
and  throw  himself  upon  its  back  was  the  work  of  an 
instant  ;  and  in  the  midst  of  furious  outcries  and 
hastily  fired  shots  he  dug  his  heels  into  the  sides  of 
the  frightened  animal,  and  commenced  his  race  for 
life. 

The  mule  had  no  sooner  recovered  from  his  first 
fright  at  finding  himself  so  unceremoniously  mounted, 
than  he  made  violent  attempts  by  roaching  his  back, 
and  kicking  up,  to  unseat  his  rider.  At  the  fifth 
or  sixth  kick-up,  accompanied  by  a  movement  which 
made  the  mule  resemble  an  angry  cat  in  outline,  the 
scout  was  landed  on  the  ground,  amid  the  shouts  of 
his  enemies,  who  rushed  toward  him,  firing  as  they 
came. 

They  reached  the  spot,  uttering  outcries  and  curses  ; 
but  their  obstinate  foe  had  once  more  eluded  them. 
The  scout  had  risen  quickly,  darted  into  the  woods, 
and  the  chase  again  commenced  with  more  ardour 
than  at  first. 

Sutledge  now  put  forth  all  his  remaining  strength 
to  distance  the  enemy,  following  more  hotly  than  ever 
on  his  track.  Panting  and  worn  out  almost,  half  re- 
solving a  hundred  times  to  turn  and  fight  and  die,  he 
still  kept  on,  the  shouts  of  his  enemies  in  his  very 
ears.  He  was  growing  desperate,  and  had  become 
nearly  exhausted.  A  burning  thirst  raged  in  his 
throat ;  and  although  the  enemy  were  on  his  very 
heels,  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation  as  he  reached 
a  little  meadow  through  which  ran  a  limpid  stream, 
to  pause  and  quench  his  thirst.  Throwing  himself 
upon  his  knees  on  the  margin  of  the  brook,  he  stooped 
and  swallowed  one   refreshing    draught  of   the   cool 


154    In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  37 

water,  and  then  rising  up,  found  from  the  shouts  of 
his  pursuers  that, they  were  at  last  upon  him  —  all 
further  hope  from  flight  of  no  avail.  A  last  desper- 
ate expedient  suggested  itself  —  concealment  in  the 
undergrowth  which  skirted  the  stream  ;  and  throwing 
himself  at  full  length  amid  the  bushes,  not  far  from 
the  spot  where  he  had  knelt  down,  he  hastily  drew 
the  undergrowth  around  him  and  awaited  the  struggle. 

He  had  scarcely  disappeared  from  view  when  his 
enemies  reached  the  spot.  He  heard  their  footsteps  ; 
their  cries  resounded ;  and  suddenly  the  voice  of  one 
of  them  exclaimed  : 

"  Here's  the  scoundrel's  knee-print  in  the  sand, 
where  he  drank  just  now  !     He  isn't  far  off !  " 

This  cry  was  the  signal  for  all  the  detached  parties 
to  converge  toward  the  spot ;  and  very  soon  the  field 
was  full  of  them.  The  scout  heard  them  deploying 
in  every  direction  to  guard  all  the  outlets,  prepara- 
tory to  a  rigid  search  of  every  species  of  covert  in 
which  a  fugitive  could  conceal  himself. 

The  moment  had  now  come  which  was  to  decide 
his  fate.  The  pursuers  had  searched  every  portion  of 
the  field  without  success,  and  now  returned  to  the 
point  from  which  they  had  set  forth,  subjecting  the 
covert  to  a  second  and  more  rigid  inspection.  Their 
feet  were  heard  trampling  amid  the  undergrowth  ; 
they  stopped  to  put  aside  the  bushes,  and  peer  into 
every  nook.  Sutledge  heard  their  very  breathing, 
and  cast  an  eye  upon  his  pistols  to  see  that  he  had 
neglected  nothing  ;  that  every  tube  was  capped,  every 
barrel  loaded,  and  both  weapons  cocked.  All  was 
right,  and  he  experienced  the  fierce  joy  of  the  man 
who  feels  that  at  least  he  need  not  die  without  drag- 
ging down  more  than  one  enemy  in  his  fall. 


no.  37]         Escape  of  the  Scout  155 

The  steps  were  at  his  side ;  oaths  and  exclama- 
tions echoed  in  his  very  ears.  One  of  the  hostile 
party  seemed  determined  to  leave  no  inch  of  the 
ground  unexplored,  and  bent  down,  plunging  his 
glances  into  the  very  bushes  over  the  scout's  head. 

Sutledge  grasped  his  pistols  with  a  firmer  clutch, 
strung  his  nerves  for  instant  contest,  and  prepared  to 
rise  suddenly  to  his  feet,  to  lay  the  curious  individual 
before  him  dead  with  a  pistol  bullet  through  the 
heart,  and  to  throw  himself  like  a  tiger  at  bay  into 
the  midst  of  his  enemies. 

The  bushes  were  thrust  aside ;  an  oath  resounded 
within  three  feet  of  him ;  he  had  covered  the  heart  of 
his  enemy  with  the  muzzle  of  his  right-hand  pistol 
crossed  over  his  breast  —  when  the  autumn  foliage 
swayed  back  to  its  place,  an  exclamation  of  disap- 
pointment followed,  and  the  footsteps  retreated  from 
his  hiding-place. 

The  scout  drew  a  long  breath.     He  was  saved. 

All  day  long  he  lay  hidden,  hearing  more  than  one 
sound  which  proved  that  his  enemies  were  still  hover- 
ing near ;  but  they  had  given  up  the  search  in  des- 
pair. At  night  he  quietly  rose,  and  found  that  the 
coast  was  clear.  Proceeding  cautiously  to  recon- 
noitre, he  discovered  that  the  ground  around  his 
hiding-place  was  only  partially  guarded,  and  had  little 
difficulty  in  escaping.  Eluding  such  parties  as  were 
still  prowling  around,  he  flanked  the  Federal  pickets, 
travelled  all  night,  and  before  daylight  was  safe 
within  the  Southern  lines. 


156     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  3s 
38.    The  Guilty  Deserter 

By  George  H.  Gordon    (1863) 

Gen.  George       I  had  received  six  soldiers  who  had  been  tried  and 
h.  Gordon  of  sentenceci  to  be  shot  for  the  crime  of  desertion.     At 

Massachu- 
setts. Warrenton  Junction  the  sentences  were  to  have  been 

carried  into  execution.  The  field  had  been  selected, 
coffins  made,  and  doom  announced ;  but  a  sudden 
movement  ordered  for  the  day  had  caused  a  week's 
suspension,  during  which  five  of  the  fated  ones  were 
recommended  to  the  President  for  pardon.  For  the 
sixth,  however,  a  ringleader,  the  sentence  was  un- 
changed ;  and  again  my  division  was  ordered  to  form 
on  the  morrow  to  witness  his  execution.  The  hope- 
lessness of  his  reprieve  had  been  communicated,  the 
chaplain  had  performed  his  last  office,  the  firing  party 
had  been  detailed,  when  again  an  order  to  march  at 
five  o'clock  in  the  morning  threatened  another  in- 
human interruption,  —  which,  however,  did  not  hap- 
pen, as  will  appear. 

With  the  stoutest  of  the  troops  this  convict  had 
marched  sturdily  and  manfully  to  Greenwich,  follow- 
ing his  coffin  for  fifteen  weary  miles.  Here,  at  the 
end  of  his  last  march,  his  last  hour  on  earth  had  come. 
A  field  near  the  camp  had  been  selected,  and  prepa- 
rations made  for  a  fitting  termination  of  the  ghastly 
ceremony,  when  the  planter,  who  had  heard  that  his 
own  field  was  to  be  devoted  to  this  novel  use,  bustled 
up  to  ask  with  puffy  earnestness,  "  Is  it  true,  General, 
that  you  are  going  to  shoot  one  of  your  men  to-day  ?  " 
Then,  without  awaiting  a  reply,  he  continued,  "  Now, 
my  dear  sir,  you  must  not  think  any  worse  of  me  if  I 
say  this  executing  is  a  dreadful  thing !      And  yet  it  is 


no.  38]         The  Guilty  Deserter         157 

an  incident  of  the  war;  why,  sir,  it  is  historical,  and, 
—  bless  my  soul,  sir  ! ; —  I  want  to  see  it ;  and,  if  you 
do  not  think  it  improper,  I  should  like  to  take  my 
little  boys  with  me." 

"  If  you  are  so  inclined,  you  may,"  I  replied.  And 
indeed  he  did  so  incline,  for  he  took  a  position  as  near 
to  the  scene  as  he  could  with  safety.  With  umbrella 
under  his  arm,  a  linen  coat  over  his  shoulders,  a  little 
dog  in  front  of  him,  and  three  small  children  (aged 
six,  eight,  and  ten)  by  his  side,  he  was  the  first  on  the 
field  and  the  last  to  leave  it. 

Many  years  ago,  hanging  on  the  wall  of  an  accus- 
tomed haunt,  I  remember  finding  a  strange  fascina- 
tion in  a  coarse  print  of  a  military  execution.  Often 
have  I  stood  spellbound  before  the  picture.  The  con- 
demned kneeling  by  the  side  of  his  grave,  the  coffin, 
the  blindfolded  victim,  the  platoon  of  soldiers  with 
levelled  muskets,  the  coming  word,  and  in  the  dis- 
tance a  horseman  galloping  towards  the  spot,  waving 
in  his  hand  a  pardon.  Could  he  but  fly  !  and  did  he 
reach  there  in  time  ?  I  could  never  forget  the  dread- 
ful reality,  even  with  the  consciousness  that  it  was 
after  all  but  a  painting,  a  creation  perhaps  of  the 
imagination.  But  this  execution  at  Greenwich-  was 
not  a  dream.  Here  there  was  no  coloring.  A  sad, 
stern  duty  was  before  me,  and  there  was  no  reprieve. 
The  hour  had  come ;  and  the  division  was  formed  on 
three  sides  of  a  hollow  square,  leaving  the  fourth  with 
an  open  grave  and  fresh  earth  on  its  edge,  when  a 
mournful  procession  approached. 

Advancing  slowly,  silently,  a  firing  party  of  six 
soldiers  preceded  an  ambulance  in  which  a  soldier 
was  seated  upon  his  coffin,  his  arms  pinioned  and  his 
eyes  cast  down.     The  provost  guard  followed.     The 


158     In  and  Out  of  the  Army   [No.  3s 

ranks  were  motionless  ;  all  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the 
condemned.  He  was  assisted  to  the  ground,  the  sol- 
diers placed  the  coffin  by  the  side  of  the  grave,  and 
then  the  poor,  unhappy  victim  knelt  upon  his  coffin. 
Not  a  sound  was  heard  save  the  mournful  prayer  and 
solemn  tones  of  the  death  sentence.  Not  a  man 
moved,  as  the  bandage  which  shut  out  forever  the 
last  ray  of  God's  sunlight  was  placed  over  the  eyes  of 
one  poor  fellow-being.  There  was  no  pity  and  no 
hope.  The  sharp  "  Ready  !  aim  !  "  and  then  came 
the  awful  choking  suspense,  relieved  by  the  ringing 
volley  which  drowned  that  word  of  dread.  For  an 
instant  the  form  remained  erect,  still  on  its  knees ; 
the  next,  a  corpse  rolled  over  its  last  receptacle  to  the 
brink  of  a  yawning  grave. 

On  their  way  back  to  their  encampments  the  troops 
moved  in  column  by  the  corpse.  Death,  so  real,  had 
set  its  seal  upon  this  human  face ;  death,  so  solemn, 
so  earnest,  had  driven  a  soul  so  completely  from  its 
human  tenement  that  I  could  hardly  realize  that  this 
rigid  form  had  ever  felt  a  human  passion,  or  given 
way  to  human  weakness.  When  the  last  look  had 
been  taken  and  the  field  cleared  of  troops,  a  small 
burial  party  lowered  the  body,  filled  the  grave  with 
earth,  covered  the  slight  mound  with  a  green  sod, 
and  left  the  scene  of  this  tragedy  alone  with  the  dead. 
Of  the  six  guns  in  the  hands  of  the  firing  party  but 
five  were  loaded ;  no  one,  therefore,  could  tell  who 
held  the  blank.  But  four  guns  were  discharged  ;  and 
from  these  but  two  bullets  struck  the  condemned  man, 
—  one  passing  through  his  arm,  another  through  his 
breast,  near  his  heart.  He  died  without  a  struggle. 
He  died,  and  left  no  word,  save  that,  as  at  last  he 
realized  the  awful  truth,  he  begged  that  he  might 


No.  39]  Trumpet  Song  159 

have  an  interview  with  myself  or  General  Meade. 
But  this  was  humanely  denied,  for  I  was  only  carry- 
ing out  the  will  of  General  Meade,  and  he  had  passed 
relentlessly  upon  his  case.  The  law  had  been  defied  ; 
and  so,  at  last,  the  law  was  vindicated. 


39.     Trumpet  Song 

The  battle-drum's  loud  rattle  is  rending  the  air, 
The  troopers  all  are  mounted,  their  sabres  are  bare ; 
The  guns  are  unlimbered,  the  bayonets  shine, 
Hark  !  hark  !  'tis  the  trumpet-call !  wheel  into  line  ! 

Ta  ra  !  ta  ta  ta  ! 
Trum  trum,  tra  ra  ra  ra  ! 
Beat  drums  and  blow  trumpets ! 

Hurrah,  boys,  hurrah  ! 

March  onward,  soldiers,  onward,  the  strife  is  begun, 
Loud  bellowing  rolls  the  boom  of  the  black-throated 

gun; 
The  rifles  are  cracking,  the  torn  banners  toss, 
The  sabres  are  clashing,  the  bayonets  cross. 

Ta  ra,  etc. 


Down  with  the  leaguing  liars,  the  traitors  to  their  trust, 
Who  trampled  the  fair  charter  of  Freedom  in  dust ! 
They     falter  —  they     waver — they     scatter  —  they 

run  — 
The  field  is  our  own,  and  the  battle  is  won  ! 

Ta  ra,  etc. 


160     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  4q 

God  save  our  mighty  people  and  prosper  our  cause ! 
We're  fighting  for  our  nation,  our  land,  and  our  laws ! 
Though  tyrants  may  hate  us,  their  threats  we  defy, 
And  drum-beat  and  trumpet  shall  peal  our  reply ! 

Ta  ra  !  ta  ta  ta  ! 
Beat  drums  and  blow  trumpets  ! 
Trum  trum,  tra  ra  ra  ra  ! 

Hurrah,  boys,  hurrah ! 


40.    The  Belligerent  Quaker 

(1863) 

"  General  Orders  No.  47.  —  Captain  Carter,  5th 
Indiana  Volunteers,  is  hereby  relieved  from  his  com- 
mand indefinitely,  and  will  report  at  these  headquar- 
ters immediately. 

By  order  of  Major-General  Rosecrans. 

Lieut.  Col.  C.  Goddard,  A.  A.  G. 

The  above  order  was  read  upon  dress  parade  to 
the  gallant  old  5th,  in  January,  1863.  The  regiment 
was  struck  dumb,  so  to  speak,  and  the  captain  most 
of  all.  What  could  such  an  order  mean  ?  Surely, 
none  deserved  censure  less  than  Captain  Carter ;  but 
none  could  give  a  sufficient  reason  why  he  should  be 
thus  relieved  ;  for,  said  they,  does  not  the  order  imply 
disgrace  ?  But  these  mutterings  were  not  heard  at 
headquarters,  and  were  of  no  avail.  The  Captain 
retired  to  his  tent,  relieved  himself  of  his  accoutre- 
ments, called  his  servant  Tom,  and  set  out  -for  head- 
quarters, with  none  but  his  black  companion. 


no.  4o]      The  Belligerent  Quaker      161 

General  Rosecrans  was  quartered  in  Judge  Ready's 
house,  and  had  a  private  suit  of  rooms  on  the  second 
floor,  with  windows  opening  upon  a  veranda.  He 
was  sitting  before  a  bright  fire  on  the  evening  our 
story  opens,  in  undress  uniform,  with  nothing  but  the 
buttons  to  betoken  rank.  An  orderly  entered  and 
announced  Captain  Carter.  The  General  arose 
quickly,  and  advanced  to  meet  him,  with  that  easy, 
smiling  look,  that  put  the  Captain's  fears  at  rest. 
The  General  took  him  by  the  hand,  while  his  coun- 
tenance assumed  a  more  thoughtful  look,  or  rather 
settled  in  repose,  and  said  :  — 

"  This  is  Captain  Carter,  of  the  5th  Indiana  ? " 

"  It  is,  sir,"  replied  the  Captain. 

"You  received  a  peremptory  order  this  evening  to 
report  forthwith." 

"  I  did,  sir,  and  have  done  so." 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  take  a  seat,  Captain.  I  am  in  want  of 
a  man  of  some  experience,  Captain,  who  has  not  only 
a  '  hand  to  do  and  a  heart  to  dare,'  but  also  has  judg- 
ment to  guide  and  direct  both.  General  Thomas,  after 
quietly  looking  through  his  command,  has  picked  on 
you ;  and  I  have  such  confidence  in  the  '  grizzled  old 
hero'  that  I  have  summoned  you  here  for  secret  ser- 
vice. Are  you  willing  to  undertake  it,  with  all  its  risks  ?  " 

"  Anything,  General,  for  our  country's  good." 

"  Very  well,  sir ;  you  will  remain  here  to-night. 
Any  of  your  effects  you  may  need,  send  for  by  the 
orderly  at  the  door.  During  the  night  I  will  inform 
you  what  your  duties  will  be." 

One  morning  in  February,  1863,  two  persons  were 
making  their  way  on  horseback  from  Shelbyville  to 
Spring    Hill.      The    first   of    these   was    dressed   in 


i  6  2     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  4o 

Quaker  garb,  and  bestrode  a  light-built,  dapple  bay 
stallion,  whose  small,  sinewy  limbs,  broad  chest,  and 
open  nostrils  betokened  both  speed  and  bottom. 
Horse  and  rider  were  ill-matched,  but  seemed  to  have 
a  perfect  understanding. 

The  other  person  was  a  negro,  dressed  like  his 
master,  broad  brim,  white  neck-tie  and  all,  mounted 
on  a  stout  roadster.  They  were  fast  approaching  a 
vidette  post ;  were  shortly  halted  by  a  cavalryman ; 
they  drew  rein  and  dismounted. 

"  Is  thee  a  man  of  war  ?  "  asked  the  Quaker. 

"  Don't  know ;  reckon,  tho',  I  mought  be.  But 
what's  your  business,  Quaker  ?  " 

"  Does  thee  know  a  Mr.  Van  Dorn  about 
here  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  reckon  I  does  ;  but  he'll  mister  ye  if  you 
call  him  that." 

"  Well,  I  have  business  with  him,  and  I  desire  ad- 
mittance into  thy  camps." 

"  All  right,  old  fellow  ;  wait  till  I  call  the  corporal." 

General  Van  Dorn  was  examining  some  maps  and 
charts,  when  an  orderly  entered  and  announced  that 
a  Quaker  desired  to  see  him. 

"  Admit  him,"  said  the  General. 

"  Is  thee  Mr.  Van  Dorn,  whom  carnal  men  call 
General?" 

"  What  is  your  business  with  me,  sir  ? "  asked  the 
General,  without  answering  the  question. 

"  I  am  sent,  friend  Van  Dorn,  by  my  society,  to 
administer  comforts  and  consolation  to  these  men  of 
war,  and  would  ask  permission  to  bring  such  things 
as  they  may  need  or  my  means  may  supply." 

"  Have  you  any  recommendations  ?  " 

"  Yes,  verily ;  "  and  the  Quaker  produced  a  bundle 


no.  4o]      The  Belligerent  Quaker      163 

of  papers,  and  commenced  assorting  them  out. 
"Here  is  one  from  friend  Quakenbush,  and  here  —  " 

"  Never  mind,"  said  the  General,  while  the  corners 
of  his  mouth  commenced  to  jerk  ;   "  here,  Mr.  —  " 

"  Thurston,"  suggested  the  Quaker. 

"  Mr.  Thurston,  here  is  a  pass  through  the  lines  at 
will  for  such  articles  as  you  may  see  proper  to  bring. 
This  is  all,  sir?" 

•  "  May  I  ask,  friend,  how  far  it  is  to  those  ungodly 
men  who  are  persecuting  our  people  with  fire  and 
sword,  whom  the  carnal  men  call  the  Yankees  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir.  About  fourteen  miles.  See  that  you 
give  them  a  wide  berth,  for  they  have  a  curious  way 
of  burning  men  of  your  persuasion." 

"  Yes,  verily  will  I ;  "  and  with  this  the  Quaker 
retired. 

"  Queer  character,  that,"  remarked  the  General  to 
himself  ;   "  but  it  takes  all  kinds  to  make  a  world." 

The  Quaker  passed  out  among  the  camps,  meeting 
a  smile  here,  and  a  rough  jest  there.  The  Quaker 
seemed  to  have  a  good  supply  of  tracts  and  religious 
papers,  which  he  scattered  freely,  with  a  word  of 
gentle  admonition  to  the  card-players,  and  a  hint  of 
the  world  to  come  to  all.  He  was  particular  in  his 
inquiries  for  the  sick,  and  even  visited  all  the  forts 
and  fortifications,  and  made  particular  inquiries  in 
and  about  them  for  the  sick,  writing  a  letter  for  one, 
furnishing  a  stamp  to  another  ;  so  that  at  the  close  of 
the  day  he  had  visited  all,  and  made  a  memorandum 
of  what  was  needed,  and  was  preparing  to  leave 
camp,  when  a  Lieutenant  came  and  accosted  him 
with,  "  I  say,  stranger,  haven't  we  met  before  ? " 

"  Nay,  verily,"  replied  the  Quaker,  "  I  go  not  about 
where  carnal  men  do  battle." 


164     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  4o 

"  No  !  Well,  I  must  have  seen  you  at  some  place, 
but  I  don't  recollect  where.     Likely  I'm  mistaken." 

"Very  like,  friend;  good  day  to  you." 

"  Massa,  did  ye  see  dat  debbil's  eyes  brighten 
up  towards  the  last  ?  Tells  ye,  sure,  we'd  better  be 
trablin." 

"  Yes,  Sam,  I  saw  it,  and  my  recollection  is  better 
than  his,  for   I   took   him   prisoner  at   Stone   River, 


A   MULE   TEAM. 


though  he  escaped  soon  after.     We  will  pass  out  as 
soon  as  possible." 

That   night  a  despatch   went   to   General    Bragg, 
which  read : 


"  Look  out    for  a    Quaker,  followed  by  a  nigger. 
He  is  a  spy.     Arrest  him. 

"Gen.  Van  Dorn." 


no.  4i]        The  Quakers  Escape         165 

41.    The  Quaker's  Escape 

(1863) 

The  next  day  a  negro  rode  into  Murfreesboro',  and 
passed  on  to  General  Rosecrans'  headquarters,  and 
presenting  a  pass,  was  admitted  to  his  private  apart- 
ments, and  handed  the  General  a  paper  which  read : 
"2  overcoats  and  6  hats,  37  shirts,  3200  tracts,  2000 
for  the  unconverted  at  Spring  Hill." 

General  Rosecrans  was  eagerly  looking  over  the 
document  when  General  Thomas  was  announced. 
The  latter  was  cordially  met  by  General  Rosecrans, 
who  immediately  handed  him  the  paper  he  had  just 
received. 

"  This  is  all  cipher  to  me,  General,"  said  General 
Thomas. 

"I  suppose  so,"  said   the  former,  who  had  been 
writing.     "Well,  here  is  something  more  intelligible: 
4  Two  forts  of  six  guns  each  ;  thirty-seven  additional 
guns;   3200  troops,   2000    of   which    are   cavalry,   at 
Spring  Hill.'  " 

"  Humph  !  Some  of  Captain  Carter's  ingenuity," 
said  General  Thomas. 

"  Yes,  he  is  doing  his  work  nobly,  so  far.  I  only 
hope  no  harm  may  come  to  him." 

"Well,  General,"  said  Thomas,  "Colonel  Blake  of 
the  5th  Indiana,  was  asking  me  to-day  why  the  Cap- 
tain was  relieved  of  his  command ;  of  course  I  knew 
nothing  about  it." 

"That  was  right,"  said  Rosecrans;  "the  effective- 
ness of  the  '  secret  service  '  would  be  greatly  impaired 
by  having  the  names  of  those  engaged  in  it  made 
known.      I    enjoined  the   utmost    secrecy    upon   the 


1 66     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  4i 

Captain,  and  kept  him  here  that  night  that  he  might 
not  be  questioned  too  closely  by  his  comrades.  We 
will  hear  from  him  by  ten  o'clock  to-morrow." 

Just  then  a  gentleman,  evidently  a  Southerner,  was 
shown  in. 

"  Where  do  you  reside  ?  "  asked  General  Bragg. 

"  I  live  near  Brandyville,  General,  and  came  down 
to  see  if  something  can't  be  done  to  keep  these  in- 
fernal Yankees  from  our  section.  They  were  down 
there  yesterday,  and  took  off  over  two  thousand 
bushels  of  corn,  and  nearly  all  the  wheat  in  the 
country." 

The  speaker  was  a  middle  aged  man  of  rather  good 
features,  but  his  countenance  betokened  the  too  free 
use  of  Confederate  whiskey. 

"  What  did  you  say  your  name  was,  Colonel  ? " 

"  Ashcroft,  sir." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  have  heard  of  your  family.  You  have 
done  nobly  for  our  cause,  from  report." 

"  We  have  tried  to  do  our  duty,  General,  and  what 
little  I  have  left  you  are  welcome  to,  but  I  don't  want 
the  Yankees  to  get  it.  I  sent  down  by  General 
Wheeler's  command,  the  other  day,  a  hundred  bush- 
els of  meal  as  a  gift." 

"  I  wish  we  had  more  like  you,"  said  Bragg. 
"  Let  me  fill  your  glass  again,  Colonel.  I  wish  I 
had  something  better  to  offer  you." 

"  Permit  me,  General,  to  send  to  my  portmanteau 
for  a  bottle  of  wine." 

"  Yes,  sah." 

"  Rare  vintage,  this,  General.  It's  one  of  a  lot  I 
got  North  before  the  war." 

"  Excellent,"  says  Bragg.     "  I  would  like  to  have  a 


no.  4i]        The  Quakers  Escape         167 

supply.  By  the  way,  Colonel,  did  you  see  anything 
of  a  Quaker-like  personage  on  the  road  this  morn- 
ing ?  " 

"  Riding  a  bay  horse,  with  a  nigger  following  ? " 

"The  same." 

"  Why,  yes.  He  came  to  my  plantation  last  night. 
I  insisted  on  his  staying  all  night,  but  he  was  in  a 
hurry,  and  could  not  stop." 

"  He  was  a  Yankee  spy,"  said  Bragg. 

"  The  devil !  and  to  think  I  gave  the  rascal  his 
supper !  " 

"Well,  well,  never  mind,  Colonel;  we'll  pick  him 
up  yet.  I'm  looking  for  some  Georgia  and  Ala- 
bama troops  up  shortly,  and  if  the  cowardly  Dutch- 
man doesn't  run,  I'll  make  another  Stone  River  for 
him." 

"  Good  for  you,  General.  Don't  leave  even  one  of 
them  on  our  soil.  But  it's  getting  late,  and  I  must 
try  and  get  some  supplies  before  I  go  back.  Will 
you  accommodate  me  with  a  pass  ? " 

"  Certainly,  and  here  is  a  bill  of  protection  for 
your  person  and  property.  No  thanks  ;  good  day  to 
you." 

"  Golly,  Massa  Cap'n,  you's  bin  talkin'  to  de  ole 
debbil  hissef." 

"  Hush  !  not  so  loud,  Tom.  I've  got  one  more  to 
visit,  and  then  we'll  be  off,  and  take  a  straight  shoot 
up  Hoover's  Gap." 

"  Cap'n,  Cap'n !  dey's  a  regiment  ob  dese  dirty 
rebels  just  started  up  de  Manchester  road,  dat's  go- 
ing up  from  Hoober's  Gap,  for  I  heard  de  Kernel 
say  so." 

"  All  right,  Tom ;  we'll  take  the  Shelbyville  road, 
and   run  the   risk  of    meeting   Van    Dorn.     Go   out 


1 6  8     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  4i 

abatis  =  a       through  the  'abatis,'  the  same  way  we  came  in  with 
means  of        foe  horses,  and  I'll  meet  you  in  half  an  hour  by  that 

defence  ?>  J  J 

formed  by         Old  house, 
felled  trees. 

"  Missus,  dey's  a  gentleman  dat  got  a  frow  off  his 
hoss  out  here,  and  would  like  to  stop  awhile  wid  ye, 
if  ye  please,  Missus." 

"  Very  well ;  I'll  send  a  boy  out  to  help  him  in.  — 
Are  you  much  hurt,  sir  ?  " 

"  No,  madam,  I  think  not ;  my  horse  got  fright- 
ened at  some  object  in  the  road,  and  threw  me  heav- 
ily on  my  right  shoulder.  A  night's  rest,  madam, 
will  enable  me  to  pursue  my  journey,  I  think." 

Our  hero  found,  upon  examination,  that  there  were 
no  bones  broken,  and  yet  the  bruise  was  severe 
enough  to  make  him  covet  a  night's  rest,  in  prefer- 
ence to  passing  it  on  the  saddle.  So  without  more 
ado,  he  submitted  to  his  hostess's  desire  to  bathe  the 
bruised  shoulder,  and  prepare  him  a  comfortable  bed 
by  the  fire. 

During  the  night  he  was  awakened  by  the  loud 
clatter  of  horses'  hoofs,  followed  immediately  by  a 
loud  "  hilloa." 

During  the  conversation  which  occurred  outside,  he 
heard  the  name  of  Van  Dorn  mentioned,  and  the  thought 
that  they  might  meet  was  anything  but  comfortable  to 
him  just  at  that  time  ;  but  he  resolved  to  trust  to  luck, 
and  if  that  failed,  he  would  try  what  virtue  there  was  in 
"  right  angles,  horizontals,"  etc.  Presently  the  door 
opened,  and  an  officer  entered,  dressed  in  the  height 
of  Confederate  style,  —  gilt  buttons,  gold  lace,  and 
all,  — a  glance  at  which  showed  that  he  bore  the  rank 
of  Lieutenant-General.  The  conversation  that  en- 
sued informed  our  hero  that  he  had  the  honor  of 


no.  4i]        The  Quakers  Escape         169 

occupying  the  same  room  with  General  Hardee.  He 
had  as  yet  feigned  sleep.  He  heard  the  General  ask 
the  lady  if  she  knew  who  he  was,  and  her  reply  was 
that  she  did  not.  Then  followed  the  story  of  his 
getting  thrown,  and  so  on.  He  was  anxious  to  estab- 
lish his  reputation  with  the  General  as  a  sound 
secesh,  and  a  little  ruse  occurred  to  him,  which  he 
resolved  to  practice  and  suddenly  bawled  out  as  if 
asleep,  — 

"  Run,  Tom ;  the  infernal  Yankees  are  coming ; 
put  all  the  horses  in  the  back  pasture ;  take  away 
every  nigger  with  you." 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  the  General;  "he's  all  right. 
I'll  bet  on  him.  But  you  see,  madam,  there  is  a 
spy  in  our  lines  that  we  are  anxious  to  catch,  and  he 
has,  so  far,  eluded  us,  and  if  we  meet  a  stranger,  we 
are  anxious  to  find  out  his  standing.  I'm  satisfied 
with  this  one,  for  a  man  will  tell  the  truth  when  he's 
asleep." 

"Your  supper's  ready,  sah." 

"And  I'm  ready  for  it,"  replied  the  General,  and 
left  the  room. 

Our  hero  moved,  grunted,  and  finally  turned  over, 
found  his  hostess  still  in  the  room,  and  behind  her  he 
saw  Tom  making  motions  for  him  to  come  out. 

The  lady  asked  if  he  felt  comfortable,  had  he  slept 
well,  to  all  of  which  he  replied  in  the  affirmative; 
upon  which  she  left  the  room,  and  he  followed  soon 
after,  and  found  Tom  waiting  for  him. 

"  Massa,  dese  debbils  has  '  sprised  '  us,  and  we'd 
better  be  a  leabin'.  I'se  got  a  'nigh  shoot'  from  de 
niggahs,  dat  we  can  cut  across  to  Manchester  and  up 
fru  de  gap  from  heah." 

"  All  right,  Tom  ;  where's  the  horses  ?  " 


170     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  42 

"  I'se  got  um,  Massa,  out  below  here." 
"  Here's  for  them,  then,  Tom  ;  come  on  quickly." 
They  reached  our  lines  the  following  evening,  and 
reported  to  General  Rosecrans. 

The  following  order  explains  itself  :  — 

Special  Field  Order. 

Capt.  Carter  (5th  Ind.  Vols.)  is  hereby  ordered  to 
return  to  his  command,  and  is  recommended  for  pro- 
motion.    By  order 

W.  S.  Rosecrans,  Maj.-Gen. 
Lieut.-Col.  C.  Goddard,  A.  A.  G. 


42.     A  Courier's  Evening 

By  a  Trooper  (1863) 

Of  all  the  duties  performed  by  our  soldiers  in  this 
war,  none  were  more  dangerous  or  exciting  than 
those  of  the  courier.  True,  the  infantry  and  artillery 
fought  the  pitched  battles,  and  the  cavalry  led  the 
advance,  held  the  outposts,  or  made  long  rides  around 
the  enemy's  flanks ;  but  they  were  conducted  in  per- 
son by  officers  of  judgment  and  experience,  and, 
besides,  individual  danger  is  immeasurably  lessened 
by  facing  it  en  masse. 

To  the  courier,  however,  were  intrusted  the  written 
commands  for  the  movements  of  the  army,  with 
which  he  was  expected  to  make  his  way  alone  (unless 
particular  danger  was  foreseen)  through  a  country 
that  was  probably  penetrated  by  the  enemy's  scouts 
or  infested  by  the  more  dreaded  guerillas. 

We  had  just  got  settled  into  camp  again,  at  Tren- 


No.  42]       A  Courier  s  Evening         171 

ton,  Georgia,  after  the  laborious  scaling  of  Sand 
Mountain,  when,  early  one  bright  starry  morning,  the 
orderlies  shook  us  out  from  the  comfortable  blankets, 
with  injunctions  to  pack  everything  and  saddle  up 
immediately.  Then  we  started  on  a  long  and  dusty, 
but  a  pleasant,  starlight  ride  across  the  valley,  pass- 
ing the  rear  camps  of  McCook  and  Thomas,  from 
which  the  reveille  was  beating  merrily  in  the  crisp 
morning  air.  These  corps  were  on  the  march  to  cross 
the  Lookout  Mountains,  which  loomed  up  grandly 
in  the  distance.  We  were  not  long  in  discovering 
the  nature  of  our  new  duties.  As  we  proceeded, 
details  of  five  or  six  men,  under  a  non-commissioned 
officer,  were  left  at  convenient  points  along  the  road ; 
these  were  stations  or  reliefs  on  the  courier  line 
which  we  were  forming.  Our  station  was  the  most 
remote  from  the  head-quarters  of  the  army,  while  the 
constant  advance  of  the  different  corps  left  us  every 
day  more  isolated. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  on  a  cool  night  in  the  early 
part  of  September.  Our  little  cabin  blazed  with  a 
cheerful  fire,  which  sent  a  gleam  of  dancing  light  out 
through  the  open  doorway  and  across  the  road.  The 
couriers,  belted  and  spurred,  stood  or  reclined  in  all 
sorts  of  positions  around  the  fire,  silently  awaiting 
despatches.  We  had  learned  to  be  expectant  at 
night,  as  experience  had  proved  that  the  majority  of 
the  mysterious  packages  came  through  at  that  time. 
Sergeant  Daniels  had  just  made  a  remark  to  that 
effect,  when  the  familiar  sound  of  horse's  feet  broke 
upon  our  ears.  Mine  were,  perhaps,  more  alive  to 
the  sound  at  that  moment  than  the  rest,  it  being  my 
turn  to  carry  the  next  despatch.  I  walked  to  the 
door   to    listen.     By  the  speed   of   the   approaching 


172     In  and  Out  of  the  Army    [No.  42 

messenger,  I  knew  that  the  missive  he  carried  was 
in  haste.  In  advance  of  his  arrival,  therefore,  I  pro- 
ceeded to  mount  Shiloh,  who  was  in  excellent  trim, 
and  rubbed  his  nose  briskly  on  my  shoulder  as  I 
untied  him.  He  knew  right  well  that  a  long  and 
perilous  journey  was  to  be  made,  and  like  a  brave 
animal  snorted  defiance. 

In  another  moment  the  courier  arrived.  Sergeant 
Daniels  examined  the  despatch,  and  handed  it  to  me 
as  I  rode  up  to  the  door.  By  the  light  from  within  I 
glanced  at  the  superscription  and  read  :  "  Major  Gen- 
eral Thomas,  commanding  14th  Corps.  Full  speed." 
An  instant  later  I  was  galloping  away. 

The  night  was  very  clear,  but  chilly,  and  I  braced 
myself  anew  for  the  weary  ride.  I  had  traversed 
those  roads  several  times  before  at  night,  but  on  this 
occasion  they  appeared  to  be  unusually  gloomy. 
The  fenceless  fields  by  which  I  swept  seemed  more 
forlorn  than  usual ;  the  woods  were  darker  through 
which  I  felt  my  way ;  the  hideous  cry  of  the  owls 
seemed  to  fill  the  air  with  demon  voices.  I  could  not 
shake  from  me  the  presentiment  of  some  impending 
evil.  Instinctively  my  hand  sought  the  revolver  at 
my  side,  and  half-cocked  it.  The  action  caused  Shi- 
loh to  prick  up  his  ears  and  increase  his  speed,  and 
in  a  short  time  I  found  myself  under  the  bold  brow 
of  Lookout,  which  shut  out  half  the  heavens,  and 
rendered  the  darkness  more  intense. 

The  approach  to  the  mountain  lies  through  a  dense 
woods,  along  the  outer  skirt  of  which  flowed  a  small 
stream.  Approaching  the  creek,  I  loosened  the  rein 
in  order  to  allow  my  horse  to  drink,  as  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  do  at  this  place.  The  banks  were  rather 
steep,  and  as  he  lowered  his  nose  and  was  about  to 


no.  42]       A  Courier  s  Evening         173 

feel  his  way  into  the  water,  the  woods  behind  were 
torn  into  a  million  echoes  by  the  report  of  a  rifle  ! 
At  the  same  time  my  horse  plunged  madly  forward 
into  the  creek,  lost  his  footing,  and  we  both  went 
down  together.  It  will  readily  be  believed  that  I  was 
scared;  but  I  preserved  sufficient  presence  of  mind 
to  disengage  my  feet  from  the  stirrups  and  to  draw 
my  pistol,  which  I  held  up  out  of  the  water.  The 
current  of  the  stream  was  neither  deep  nor  strong, 
so  that  Shiloh  and  myself  soon  regained  our  feet, 
and  made  all  haste  up  the  opposite  bank.  It  was 
not  until  that  moment  that  I  noticed  a  mounted 
figure  darkly  outlined  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream. 
It  was  my  would-be  murderer,  who  had  doubtless  ex- 
pected to  find  me  dead  or  disabled.  I  gave  him  a 
positive  assurance  to  the  contrary  by  discharging 
a  shot  at  him,  which  caused  the  figure  to  disappear 
as  suddenly  as  it  had  come.  I  listened  to  the  sound 
of  the  rascal's  retreat  until  it  died  away  in  the 
distance.  Then,  wringing  some  of  the  water  out 
of  my  clothes,  and  remounting,  I  pushed  forward 
with  all  speed  from  what  appeared  to  be  a  dangerous 
locality. 

But  my  horse  had  not  proceeded  twenty  yards  be- 
fore I  perceived  that  his  strength  was  failing.  His 
steps  lagged  more  and  more  every  moment,  in  spite 
of  my  utmost  efforts  to  urge  him  forward.  With  a 
heavy  heart  I  dismounted  and  examined  him.  My 
fears  proved  too  true :  he  was  wounded.  I  felt  a 
perforation,  from  which  the  warm  blood  oozed  slowly 
down  his  flanks.  The  brave  beast  finally  succumbed, 
and  with  a  deep  drawn  sigh  staggered  heavily  to  the 
ground.  For  awhile  my  own  danger  was  forgotten 
in  sympathy  for  the  poor  horse.     He  had  borne  me 


174     In  and  ®ut;  °f  the  Army    [No.  42 

faithfully  and  well  through  a  thousand  perils,  and 
now  he  was  giving  up  his  life  in  my  service. 

My  situation  was  certainly  alarming.  The  bush- 
whacker might  follow  me,  and  it  was  equally  probable 
that  others  of  his  clan  were  lying  in  advance,  to  make 
sure  of  the  victim.  Those  dreadful  marauders  seldom 
traveled  alone. 

For  aught  I  knew  their  practiced  eyes  might  even 
then  be  staring  through  the  darkness  around  me. 
For  a  moment  or  two  I  was  in  a  painful  state  of  inde- 
cision. In  night  rides  I  had  always  trusted  implicitly 
to  the  instinct  of  my  horse ;  but  now  that  resource 
was  denied  me,  and  my  topographical  instincts  were 
none  of  the  best.  Should  I  make  my  way  back  to 
the  station,  remount  and  bring  a  comrade  with  me  ? 
A  feeling  of  pride  determined  me  to  go  forward  at 
all  hazards  and  deliver  my  despatch.  Quickly  strip- 
ping the  bridle,  blanket,  and  saddle-bags  from  the 
dead  animal,  and  securing  them  about  my  person,  I 
gave  my  belt  an  extra  hitch,  and  started  forward. 

By  the  position  of  the  few  stars  that  were  visible  I 
assumed  the  time  to  be  near  midnight.  The  road  up 
the  mountain  was  fearfully  trying  to  legs  and  wind. 
For  two  hours  (as  I  judged)  I  clambered  up  the  rocky 
way,  stopping  every  hundred  yards  to  rest  and  fill 
my  exhausted  lungs.  The  air  grew  colder  as  I 
neared  the  summit,  and  the  heavy  dew  saturated  my 
cap  and  great-coat,  already  well  soaked  in  the  creek. 
It  was  growing  lighter,  too,  as  I  ascended.  I  turned 
at  times  to  look  off  into  the  valley  behind,  which 
stretched    away   dark   and   shadowy  to   the   horizon. 

I  turned  away  with  a  sigh  and  bent  my  steps  again 
toward  the  summit.  I  had  not  gone  far  when  "Halt! 
who  comes  there  ? "  yelled  out  shrill  and  clear,  as  if 


no.  42]       A  Courier  s  Evening         175 

from  the  clouds.  The  unexpected  challenge  thrilled 
me  to  the  marrow.  Was  it  a  rebel  or  a  Union  picket? 
The  lightninglike  process  by  which  I  arrived  at  the 
conclusion  that  my  challenger  was  a  Federal  sentry, 
is  long  since  forgotten ;  but  to  such  a  conclusion  I 
did  arrive  in  an  instant.     Answering  — 

"  A  courier  with  despatches." 

"  Dismount,  courier,  and  advance,"  he  replied. 

As  I  was  already  dismounted,  I  proceeded  to  obey 
the  latter  part  of  the  injunction.  I  had  gone  but 
a  few  yards,  however,  when  I  was  halted  again. 
"Where's  your  horse?"  inquired  the  sentinel,  who 
was  evidently  growing  suspicious.  This  question  led 
to  an  explanation  of  affairs;  and  in  a  short  time  I 
was  the  centre  of  a  gaping  crowd  on  the  mountain 
top,  to  whom  I  related  my  adventure  in  the  valley. 
My  listeners  were  a  portion  of  Harrison's  Mounted 
Infantry,  who  were  returning  from  a  scout.  I  hold 
in  grateful  remembrance  a  tin-cup  full  of  hot  coffee, 
which  one  of  these  brave  boys  prepared  for  my  bene- 
fit. I  think  they  called  him  "Gussy."  Aided  by  the 
advice  of  these  boys,  and  a  captured  mule  which  they 
loaned  me,  I  was  not  long  in  finding  the  way  into  the 
other  valley,  where  the  newly  risen  sun  and  freshly 
traveled  roads  enabled  me  to  keep  track  of  the  14th 
Corps.  I  found  the  Head-Quarters  of  Thomas  in  the 
saddle,  and  delivered  my  despatch  to  one  of  his  staff. 


A  PRIVATE. 


PART  IV 
BOY    SOLDIERS   AND    SAILORS 


43.    Young  Farragut's  Command 

By  Midshipman  David  Farragut  (181 3) 

I  was  sent  as  a  prize-master  to  the  Barc/ay.     This  David  Farra- 
was  an  important  event  in  my  life,  and  when  it  was  sut.  color  ad- 

I'-iiiT  1  11-  TT-i  •  r    miral  during 

decided  that  I  was  to  take  the  ship  to  Valparaiso,  I   the  Civil 
felt  no  little  pride  in  finding  myself  in  command  at  War, was  one 

,  £  -r-i  •  1111  of  the  bravest 

twelve  years  of  age.     This  vessel  had  been  recap-  and  most 
tured  from  a  Spanish  gnarda  costa.     The  Captain  and   capable  of  ail 
his  mate  were   on  board,  and  I  was  to  control   the  n^)a"offi!. 
men  sent  from  our  frigate,  while  the  Captain  was  to   cers. 
navigate  the  vessel. 

This  arrangement  caused  great  dissatisfaction  on 
the  part  of  the  Captain  of  the  Barclay,  a  violent  tem- 
pered old  fellow ;  and,  when  the  day  arrived  for  our 
separation  from  the  squadron,  he  was  furious,  and 
very  plainly  intimated  to  me  that  I  would  find  myself 
off  New  Zealand  in  the  morning ;  to  which  I  most 
decidedly  demurred. 

I  considered  that  my  day  of  trial  had  arrived  (for 
I  was  a  little  afraid  of  the  old  fellow,  as  every  one 
else  was).  But  the  time  had  come  for  me  at  least  to 
play  the  man  ;  so  I  mustered  up  courage  and  informed 
the  Captain  that  I  desired  the  maintopsail  filled  away, 
n  177 


178      Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors     [No.  43 

in  order  that  we  might  close  up  with  the  Essex  Junior 
(which  was  to  accompany  us  to  Valparaiso).  He  re- 
plied that  he  would  shoot  any  man  who  dared  to 
touch  a  rope  without  his  orders,  he  would  go  his  own 
course,  and  had  no  idea  of  trusting  himself  with  a 
nutshell,  and  then  he  went  below  for  his  pistols. 

I  called  my  right  hand  man  of  the  crew,  and  told 
him  my  situation  ;  I  also  informed  him  that  I  wanted 
the  maintopsail  filled.  He  answered  with  a  clear 
"Aye,  aye,  sir !  "  in  a  manner  which  was  not  to  be 
misunderstood,  and  my  confidence  was  perfectly  re- 
stored. From  that  moment  I  became  master  of  the 
vessel,  and  immediately  gave  all  necessary  orders  for 
making  sail,  notifying  the  Captain  not  to  come  on 
deck  with  his  pistols  unless  he  wished  to  go  over- 
board ;  for  I  would  really  have  had  very  little  trouble 
in  having  such  an  order  obeyed. 

I  returned  to  the  Barclay,  and  everything  went 
on  amicably  up  to  our  arrival  at  Valparaiso.  The 
passage  was  one  of  uniform  good  weather,  un- 
accompanied by  any  event  worthy  of  note.  We 
made  Hood's  Island,  one  of  the  Marquessas  group. 
On  our  approach,  a  canoe  came  out  to  meet  us,  with 
eight  natives  tattooed  and  ornamented  with  feathers. 
They  invited  us  on  shore,  and  promised  us  fruit  and 
provisions  in  abundance.  Finally  we  rounded  a 
point  and  ran  into  a  beautiful  harbor,  to  be  called, 
thereafter,  Massachusetts  Bay.  The  ship  was  hauled 
into  a  good  berth,  close  in  shore,  the  water  being  per- 
fectly clear,  with  a  sandy  bottom. 

During  our  stay  at  this  island,  the  youngsters,  I 
among  the  number,  were  sent  on  board  the  vessel 
commanded  by  our  Chaplain,  for  the  purpose  of  con- 
tinuing our  studies,  away  from  temptation.     We  were 


no.  44]  Young   Farragut  179 

allowed,  when  not  occupied  with  our  duties,  to  ramble 
about  on  shore  in  company  with  the  native  boys. 
From  them  we  learned  to  throw  the  spear  and  walk 
on  stilts ;  but  the  most  useful  accomplishment  we 
acquired  was  the  art  of  swimming.  It  really  ap- 
pears as  natural  for  these  islanders  to  swim  as  to  eat. 
I  have  often  seen  mothers  take  their  little  children, 
apparently  not  more  than  two  years  old,  down  to  the 
sea  on  their  backs,  walk  deliberately  into  deep  water, 
and  leave  them  to  paddle  for  themselves.  To  my 
astonishment,  the  little  creatures  could  swim  like 
young  ducks. 

In  such  amusements  the  time  passed  pleasantly 
enough.  We  were  considered  too  young  to  join  in 
the  battles  which  our  people  were  carrying  on  with 
the  Happars  and  Typees,  and  the  Captain  did  not 
allow  us  to  accompany  him  on  these  expeditions  in- 
land, at  which,  of  course,  we  felt  indignant. 


44.    Cadet  Grant  at  West  Point 

By  Ulysses  Simpson  Grant  (1838) 

In  the  winter  of  1838-39  I  was  attending  school  at  This  is  the 
Ripley,  only  ten  miles  distant  from  Georgetown,  but  later  General 
spent  the  Christmas  holidays  at  home.     During  this  denti 
vacation  my  father  received  a  letter  from  the  Honor- 
able Thomas  Morris,  then  United  States  senator  from 
Ohio.     When  he  read  it  he  said  to  me,   "  Ulysses, 
I  believe  you  are  going  to  receive  the  appointment." 
"  What  appointment  ?  "  I  inquired.     "  To  West  Point; 
I  have  applied  for  it."     "  But  I  won't  go,"  I  said.     He 
said  he  thought  I  would,  and  I  thought  so  too,  if  he  did. 


i  8  o      Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors    [No.  44 

Besides  this  argument  in  favor  of  my  going  to 
West  Point  there  was  another  very  strong  induce- 
ment. I  had  always  a  great  desire  to  travel.  Going 
to  West  Point  would  give  me  the  opportunity  of  visit- 
ing the  two  great  cities  of  the  continent,  Philadelphia 


BIRTHPLACE   OF   GENERAL   GRANT. 


and  New  York.  This  was  enough.  When  these 
places  were  visited  I  would  have  been  glad  to  have 
had  a  steamboat  or  a  railroad  collision,  or  any  other 
injury  happen,  by  which  I  might  have  received  a 
temporary  accident  sufficient  to  make  me  ineligible, 
for  a  time,  to  enter  the  Academy.  Nothing  of  the 
kind  occurred,  and  I  had  to  face  the  music. 


no.  44]  Cadet    Grant  i  8  i 

A  military  life  had  no  charms  for  me,  and  I  had 
not  the  faintest  idea  of  staying  in  the  army  even  if 
I  should  be  graduated,  which  I  did  not  expect.  The 
encampment  which  preceded  the  commencement  of 
academic  studies  was  very  wearisome  and  uninterest- 
ing. When  the  28th  of  August  came  —  the  date  for 
breaking  up  camp  and  going  into  barracks  —  I  felt  as 
though  I  had  been  at  West  Point  always,  and  that  if  I 
staid  to  graduation,  I  would  have  to  remain  always. 
I  did  not  take  hold  of  my  studies  with  avidity,  in  fact  I 
rarely  ever  read  over  a  lesson  the  second  time  during 
my  entire  cadetship.  I  could  not  sit  in  my  room  doing 
nothing.  There  is  a  fine  library  connected  with  the 
academy,  from  which  cadets  can  get  books  to  read 
in  their  quarters.  I  devoted  more  time  to  these  than 
to  the  books  relating  to  the  course  of  studies.  Much 
of  the  time,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  was  devoted  to  novels, 
but  not  those  of  a  trash  sort.  I  read  all  of  Bulwer's 
then  published,  Marryat's,  Scott's,  Washington  Irving's 
works,  Lever's,  and  many  others  that  I  do  not  now  re- 
member. Mathematics  were  very  easy  to  me,  so  that 
when  January  came,  I  passed  the  examination  taking 
a  good  standing  in  that  branch.  In  French,  the  only 
other  study  at  that  time  in  the  first  year's  course,  my 
standing  was  very  low.  In  fact  if  the  class  had  been 
turned  the  other  end  foremost  I  should  have  been 
near  the  head.  I  never  succeeded  in  getting  squarely 
at  either  end  of  my  class,  in  any  one  study,  during 
the  four  years.  I  came  near  it  in  French,  artillery, 
infantry  and  cavalry  tactics,  and  conduct. 

During  my  first  year's  encampment,  General  Scott 
visited  West  Point,  and  reviewed  the  cadets.  With 
his  commanding  figure,  his  quite  colossal  size  and 
showy  uniform,  I  thought   him   the  finest  specimen 


i  8  2     Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors    [No.  44 

of  manhood  my  eyes  had  ever  beheld,  and  the  most 
to  be  envied.  I  could  never  resemble  him  in  appear- 
ance, but  I  believe  I  did  have  a  presentiment  for  a 
moment  that  some  day  I  should  occupy  his  place  on 
review,  although  I  had  no  intention  then  of  remain- 
ing in  the  army. 

At  last  all  the  examinations  were  passed,  and  the 
members  of  the  class  were  called  upon  to  record  their 
choice  of  arms  of  service  and  regiments.  I  was  anx- 
ious to  enter  the  cavalry,  or  dragoons,  as  they  were 
then  called,  but  there  was  only  one  regiment  of  dra- 
goons in  the  army  at  that  time,  and  attached  to  that, 
besides  the  full  complement  of  officers,  there  were  at 
least  four  brevet  second  lieutenants.  I  recorded, 
therefore,  my  first  choice,  dragoons  ;  second,  infantry ; 
and  got  the  latter. 

Having  made  alternate  choice  of  two  different 
arms  of  service  with  different  uniforms,  I  could  not 
get  a  uniform  suit,  until  notified  of  my  assignment. 
I  left  my  measurement  with  a  tailor,  with  directions 
not  to  make  the  uniform  until  I  notified  him  whether 
was  to  be  for  infantry  or  dragoons.  Notice  did  not 
reach  me  for  several  weeks,  and  then  it  took  at  least 
a  week  to  get  the  letter  of  instruction  to  the  tailor, 
and  two  more  to  make  the  clothes  and  have  them 
sent  to  me.     This  was  a  time  of  great  suspense. 

Two  incidents  happened  soon  after  the  arrival  of 
the  clothes,  which  gave  me  a  distaste  for  military 
uniform  that  I  never  recovered  from.  Soon  after 
the  arrival  of  the  suit  I  donned  it,  and  put  off  for 
Cincinnati  on  horseback.  While  I  was  riding  along 
a  street  of  that  city,  imagining  that  everyone  was 
looking  at  me,  with  a  feeling  akin  to  mine  when  I 
first  saw  General  Scott,  a  little  urchin,  bareheaded, 


no.  45]     Midshipman  s  Nightcaps      183 

barefooted,  with  dirty,  ragged  pants  held  up  by  a 
single  gallows,  turned  to  me  and  cried,  "Soldier! 
will  you  work  ?  No,  sir-ee  ;  I'll  sell  my  shirt  first !  " 
The  other  circumstance  occurred  at  home.  Oppo- 
site our  house  in  Bethel  stood  the  old  stage  tavern 
where  man  and  beast  found  accommodation.  The 
stable-man  was  rather  dissipated,  but  possessed  a 
sense  of  humor.  On  my  return  I  found  him  parad- 
ing the  streets,  and  attending  in  the  stable,  bare- 
footed, but  in  a  pair  of  sky-blue  nankeen  trousers, 
just  the  color  of  my  uniform  trousers,  with  a  strip  of 
white  cotton  sheeting  sewed  down  the  outside  seams 
in  imitation  of  mine.  The  joke  was  a  huge  one  in 
the  minds  of  many  people,  and  was  much  enjoyed  by 
them  ;  but  I  did  not  appreciate  it  so  highly. 


45.    A   Midshipman's   Nightcaps 

By  Midshipman  William  Parker  (1841) 

I  entered  the  United  States  Navy  as  a  midship- 
man on  the  19th  day  of  October,  1841,  being  then 
fourteen  years  of  age.  I  was  almost  immediately 
ordered  to  the  United  States  ship  North  Carolina, 
and  on  the  27th  day  of  the  same  month  reported  for 
duty  to  Commodore  Perry,  then  commanding  the 
station  at  New  York. 

I  well  recollect  my  extreme  surprise  at  being  ad- 
dressed as  "  Mr."  by  the  commodore,  and  being  re- 
called to  my  senses  by  the  sharp  "William"  of  my 
father,  who  accompanied  me  to  the  Navy  Yard. 

My  father  soon  left  me,  and  I  was  taken  below  to 


184     Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors    [No.  45 


be  introduced  to  my  messmates,  of  whom  I  found 
about  thirty,  messing  in  the  gun-room  and  sleeping 
on  the  orlop  deck.  During  the  first  day,  I  was  in  a 
constant  state  of  excitement ;  the  frequent  calling  of 
all  hands,  and  the  running  about  caused  me  to  think 
the  ship  was  on  fire,  and  I  repaired  to  the  quarter- 
deck many  times  to  see  what  the  matter  was. 

Several  of  the  mid- 
shipmen hung  about 
me  watching  a  chance 
to  perpetrate  their 
jokes ;  but  a  green- 
horn, like  myself,  hap- 
pening to  complain  to 
them  that  he  "  could  not 
find  Cheeks,  the  marine, 
anywhere,"  caused  me 
to  smile  ;  for  I  was  well 
up  in  Marryatt's  novels. 
So  they  let  me  alone 
with  the  remark  that 
they  supposed  my  father 
and  brother  (both  of 
whom  were  in  the  navy) 
had  put  me  up  to  the 
usual  navy  jokes. 

About  this  time  all 
hands  were  called  to 
stand  by  the  hammocks ;  and  my  surprise  was  great 
when  I  saw  the  hammocks  taken  out  from  the  net- 
tings ;  for  I  had  previously  supposed  that  naval 
officers,  taking  the  hint  from  General  Jackson's  de- 
fences at  New  Orleans,  had  stuffed  the  ship's  sides 
with  bags  of  cotton,  to  resist  shot !     Fortunately,   I 


A    MIDDY. 


no.  45]    Midshipman  s  Nightcaps      185 

did  not  allow  this  to  escape  me,  or  I  should  have  been 
called  "  cotton-bale  Parker  "  to  this  day. 

When  I  was  taken  down  to  the  orlop  deck,  and  saw 
the  hammocks  swung,  I  could  not  imagine  how  I  was 
to  sleep  in,  or  rather  on  one ;  for,  not  knowing  that 
it  was  not  unlashed  and  that  it  contained  inside  a 
mattress  and  blankets,  I  naturally  thought  it  was  the 
way  of  sailors  to  sit  a-straddle  of  it,  and  repose  in 
this  unnatural  attitude.  It  caused  me  much  unhappi- 
ness  that  night  in  the  gun-room,  and  I  thought  I  had 
better,  perhaps,  resign  and  go  home  at  once  ;  but  at 
two  bells,  nine  o'clock,  when  we  all  went  down  to 
turn  in,  I  was  much  relieved  to  see  the  hammocks 
spread  out  into  a  more  reasonable  shape. 

Here  another  surprise  awa,ited  me.  Up  to  this 
time  I  had  suffered  much  with  ear-ache,  and  my 
mother  had  caused  me  to  wear  nightcaps.  There 
was  nothing  strange  to  me  in  this,  as  other  boys  wore 
them  at  my  boarding-school,  but  it  seems  it  was  not 
a  "  way  they  had  in  the  navy."  My  caps  were  of 
many  colors,  —  red,  blue,  green,  etc.,  —  for  they  were 
made  of  remnants  of  my  sisters'  dresses.  Now,  as  I 
made  my  final  preparations  for  repose,  I  opened  my 
trunk,  and  put  on  a  close-fitting  nightcap. 

It  was  the  signal  for  an  indescribable  scene  of  con- 
fusion. If  I  had  put  on  a  suit  of  mail,  it  could  not 
have  caused  greater  astonishment  among  these  light- 
hearted  youngsters.  They  rushed  to  my  trunk,  seized 
the  caps,  put  them  on,  and  joined  in  a  wild  dance  on 
the  orlop  deck,  in  which  were  mingled  red  caps,  blue 
caps,  white  caps,  —  all  colors  of  caps,  in  pleasing 
variety.  I  had  to  take  mine  off  before  turning  in,  as 
it  really  did  seem  to  be  too  much  for  their  feelings ; 
but  I  managed  to  smuggle  it  under  my  pillow,  and 


i  8  6     Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors     [No.  4e 

when  all  was  quiet  I  put  it  on  again ;  but  when  the 
midshipman  came  down  at  midnight  to  call  the  relief 
he  spied  it,  and  we  had  another  scene.  This  was 
the  last  I  ever  saw  of  my  caps.  I  have  never  had  on 
one  since,  and,  consequently,  have  never  had  the  ear- 
ache. 


Later  a  rear- 
admiral—  a 
title  corre- 
sponding to 
brigadier- 
general. 


46.    The  Rear  Admiral  as  Midship- 
man 

By  Midshipman  Samuel  Rhoades  Franklin  (1841) 

I  was  appointed  an  acting  midshipman  in  the  navy 
by  Secretary  Paulding,  on  the  18th  day  of  February, 
1 84 1.  In  those  days  the  appointments  were  thus 
made ;  and  if  the  commanding  officer  with  whom  an 
acting  midshipman  served  made  a  favorable  report 
on  his  aptitude  for  the  service,  at  the  end  of  six 
months  a  warrant  was  given  to  him  creating  him 
midshipman.  He  was  then  what  was  called  a  warrant 
officer,  but  not  a  commissioned  officer,  —  a  most  im- 
portant distinction  at  that  time,  for  there  was  an 
impassable  gulf  between  those  two  classes,  to  which 
all  can  testify  who  have  gone  through  the  mill.  The 
warrant  man  was  often  made  to  feel  by  the  commis- 
sion man  that  he  was  not  only  an  inferior  officer,  but 
an  inferior  being  altogether. 

There  was  no  such  thing  as  a  Naval  School  deserv- 
ing the  name.  Midshipmen  were  sent  to  the  Naval 
Asylum  at  Philadelphia  (a  sort  of  sailors'  home)  after 
six  years'  service,  and  there  made  a  kind  of  prepara- 
tion for  examination,  but  there  was  no  organization. 
They    did    as    they    pleased,  —  studied    or   idled,    as 


no.  46]  Midshipman  s   Life  187 

suited  their  whims.  There  was  a  professor  of  mathe- 
matics, and  also  a  professor  of  French  ;  there  was  no 
discipline. 

In  the  spring  of  1841  I  was  ordered  to  the  Receiv- 
ing-Ship North  Carolina  at  New  York.  This  line-of- 
battle  ship  was  utilized  for  the  purpose  of  receiving 
on  board  enlisted  men,  who  were  detained  there  until 
they  were  drafted  for  some  sea-going  ship.  On 
board  the  Old  North,  as  we  used  to  call  her,  there 
was  a  professor  of  mathematics  of  the  name  of  Ward, 
and  there  was  some  pretence  of  having  school,  but  it 
did  not  amount  to  much.  All  that  I  remember  is 
that  I  was  taught  some  expressions,  such  as  "  diff.," 
"lat,"  and  "departure,"  but  I  do  not  think  I  had  the 
most  remote  idea  what  they  meant.  I  have  never 
forgotten  how  the  professor,  when  twelve  o'clock  was 
sounded,  always  sent  for  his  plate  of  ship's  soup, 
which  was  served  to  the  crew,  and  how  he  smacked 
his  lips  and  enjoyed  it,  which,  indeed,  we  all  did,  for 
I  remember  how  exceedingly  good  it  was. 

There  were  two  messes  for  the  midshipmen  on 
board  the  North  Carolina,  —  one,  the  gun-room  mess, 
as  it  was  called,  and  the  other  the  steerage  mess.  I 
was  assigned  to  the  steerage,  where  we  lived  like 
pigs.  The  gun-room  was  far  more  respectable. 
Things  became  so  bad  in  the  steerage  that  it  was 
finally  abandoned,  and  we  were  transferred  to  the 
gun-room,  much  to  my  delight.  I  formed  friend- 
ships there  that  were  continued  throughout  my  ser- 
vice, and  my  whole  condition  was  very  much  changed 
for  the  better. 

During  the  summer  months  the  ship  was  anchored 
off  the  Battery,  and,  to  some  extent,  the  duties  were 
much  the   same   as   those   performed   in   a   regular 


i  8  8     Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors     [No.  4e 

cruiser.  We  had  our  watches  to  keep  and  our  duties 
to  perform,  but  there  was  not  much  to  point  her  out 
as  a  war  machine.  There  had  been  a  long  peace, 
and  such  training  as  now  takes  place  on  board  our 
ships  of  war  was  not  even  dreamed  of  then.  Indeed, 
there  was  comparatively  little  of  it  in  our  regular 
cruisers. 

I  made  several  ineffectual  attempts  during  the 
summer  to  get  orders  to  sea.  Finally  in  September, 
I  was  ordered  to  the  Frigate  United  States,  which  was 
fitting  out  at  the  Norfolk  Navy  Yard. 

I  reported  at  the  Norfolk  Yard  to  Commodore 
Warrington  early  in  October,  and,  as  the  ship  was 
not  yet  ready  to  receive  the  officers  and  crew,  re- 
mained for  several  days  at  French's  Hotel.  I  never 
shall  forget  how  good  the  Lynn  Haven  Bay  oysters 
tasted,  when  the  negro  waiters  produced  them  before 
me,  with  the  exclamation,  "  Navy  officers  very  fond 
of  oysters  !  "  and  I  remember  to  have  enjoyed  my 
few  days  of  ease  there  very  much  indeed.  I  met  at 
the  hotel  my  future  messmates,  who  were  to  be  my 
close  companions  for  three  years.  There  we  formed 
our  plans  for  messing,  and  discussed  the  coming 
cruise  with  that  enthusiasm  which  belongs  to  youth 
alone. 

We  were  not  permitted  long  to  enjoy  our  ease. 
Orders  came  for  us  to  prepare  on  board  the  frigate, 
and  we  were  placed  in  our  proper  messes  in  the 
steerage,  had  our  places  in  watches  and  divisions 
assigned  to  us,  and  soon  settled  down  to  regular 
work.  I  was  put  in  the  larboard  mess,  —  somehow, 
for  what  reason  I  do  not  know,  regarded  as  the  swell 
place. 

After  many  trials  and  vicissitudes,  we  finally  settled 


no.  47]  Lieutenant    Grant  189 

down  to  the  regular  routine  of  a  man-of-war.  We 
elected  a  caterer  of  the  mess,  and  lived  comfortably 
enough  for  the  time.  Our  trials  came  on  with  the 
night,  for,  as  I  have  said,  our  mess-room,  which  was 
our  bed-room  also,  was  about  large  enough  fairly  to 
accommodate  two  people,  yet  twelve  of  us  were 
huddled  together  in  this  apartment  like  so  many  pigs 
in  a  pen.  Our  hammocks,  instead  of  lying  loose  to 
the  sport  of  the  wind,  formed  a  sort  of  continuous 
sheet  of  canvas,  dotted  over  with  mattresses.  We 
could  neither  turn  in  or  out  of  them  without  disturb- 
ing our  neighbors,  causing  growling  and  quarrelling 
which  often  led  to  serious  consequences.  I  think 
there  was  but  one  basin  for  the  morning  toilet,  —  at 
the  most,  two,  —  but  we  made  the  best  of  our  incon- 
veniences, and  accepted  the  situation  with  a  good 
grace.  Ranged  around  this  luxurious  apartment 
were  the  lockers  for  our  clothes.  They  were  not 
ample,  but  we  accommodated  ourselves  to  their 
capacity,  and  managed  to  get  on  with  small  ward- 
robes. We  were  permitted  to  go  on  shore  occasion- 
ally, when  we  laid  in  our  private  stores,  books  for 
our  journals,  our  quadrants,  etc. 


47.    A  Young  Officer  in  the  War 

By  Second  Lieutenant  Ulysses  Simpson  Grant  (1847) 

I  was  with  the  earliest  of  the  troops  to  enter  the  This  attack 

Mills.     In  passing  through  to  the  north  side,  looking  chapuite'ef 

towards  Chapultepec,  I  happened  to  notice  that  there  preceded  the 

were  armed    Mexicans  still  on  top   of  the  building,  caPtureof 

1  r  r  r  r  kt  ■  the  CltY  °f 

only  a  few  feet  from  many  of  our  men.     Not  seeing  Mexico 


190     Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors     [No.  47 

any  stairway  or  ladder  reaching  to  the  top  of  the 
building,  I  took  a  few  soldiers,  and  had  a  cart  that 
happened  to  be  standing  near  brought  up,  and,  plac- 
ing the  shafts  against  the  wall  and  chocking  the 
wheels  so  that  the  cart  could  not  back,  used  the 
shafts  as  a  sort  of  ladder  extending  to  within  three  or 
four  feet  of  the  top.  By  this  I  climbed  to  the  roof 
of  the  building,  followed  by  a  few  men,  but  found  a 
private  soldier  had  preceded  me  by  some  other  way. 
There  were  still  quite  a  number  of  Mexicans  on  the 
roof,  among  them  a  major  and  five  or  six  officers  of 
lower  grades,  who  had  not  succeeded  in  getting  away 
before  our  troops  occupied  the  building.  They  still 
had  their  arms,  while  the  soldier  before  mentioned 
was  walking  as  sentry,  guarding  the  prisoners  he  had 
surrounded,  all  by  himself.  I  halted  the  sentinel, 
received  the  swords  from  the  commissioned  officers, 
and  proceeded,  with  the  assistance  of  the  soldiers 
now  with  me,  to  disable  the  muskets  by  striking  them 
against  the  edge  of  the  wall,  and  throw  them  to  the 
ground  below. 

During  the  night  of  the  nth,  batteries  were  estab- 
lished which  could  play  upon  the  fortifications  of 
Chapultepec.  The  bombardment  commenced  early 
on  the  morning  of  the  12th,  but  there  was  no  further 
engagement  during  this  day  than  that  of  the  artillery. 
Later  in  the  day  in  reconnoitring  I  found  a  church 
off  to  the  south  of  the  road,  which  looked  to  me  as  if 
the  belfry  would  command  the  ground  back  of  the 
garita  San  Cosme.  I  got  an  officer  of  the  voltigeurs, 
with  a  mountain  howitzer  and  men  to  work  it,  to  go 
with  me.  The  road  being  in  possession  of  the  enemy, 
we  had  to  take  the  field  to  the  south  to  reach  the 
church.      When   I    knocked   for   admission  a  priest 


no.  47]  Lieutenant    Grant  191 

came  to  the  door,  who,  while  extremely  polite,  de- 
clined to  admit  us.  With  the  little  Spanish  then  at 
my  command,  I  explained  to  him  that  he  might  save 
property  by  opening  the  door,  and  he  certainly  would 
save  himself  from  becoming  a  prisoner,  for  a  time  at 
least;  and  besides,  I  intended  to  go  in  whether  he 
consented  or  not.  He  began  to  see  his  duty  in  the 
same  light  that  I  did,  and  opened  the  door,  though 
he  did  not  look  as  if  it  gave  him  special  pleasure  to 
do  so.  The  gun  was  carried  to  the  belfry  and  put 
together.  We  were  not  more  than  two  or  three 
hundred  yards  from  San  Cosme.  The  shots  from 
our  little  gun  dropped  in  upon  the  enemy  and  created 
great  confusion.  Why  they  did  not  send  out  a  small 
party  and  capture  us,  I  do  not  know.  We  had  no 
infantry  or  other  defences  besides  our  one  gun. 

The  effect  of  this  gun  upon  the  troops  about  the 
gate  of  the  city  was  so  marked  that  General  Worth 
saw  it  from  his  position.  He  was  so  pleased  that  he 
sent  a  staff  officer,  Lieutenant  Pemberton,  to  bring 
me  to  him.  He  expressed  his  gratification  at  the 
services  the  howitzer  in  the  church  steeple  was  doing, 
saying  that  every  shot  was  effective,  and  ordered  a 
captain  of  voltigeurs  to  report  to  me  with  another 
howitzer  to  be  placed  along  with  the  one  already 
rendering  so  much  service.  I  could  not  tell  the  Gen- 
eral that  there  was  not  room  enough  in  the  steeple 
for  another  gun,  because  he  probably  would  have 
looked  upon  such  a  statement  as  a  contradiction  from 
a  second  lieutenant.  I  took  the  captain  with  me,  but 
did  not  use  his  gun. 


192  Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors  [No.  48 
48.    A  Southern  Officer  to  his  Boys 

By  Captain  Robert  E.  Lee  (1847) 
Ship  Massachusetts,  off  Lobos,  February,  27,  1847 

This  was  the        My  dear  Boys  :   I  received  your  letters  with  the 
later  Confed-  greatest  pleasure,  and,  as  I  always  like  to  talk  to  you 

erate  deneral  ...  .  . 

Lee.  both  together,  I  will  not  separate  you  in  my  letters, 

but  write  one  to  you  both.  I  was  much  gratified  to 
hear  of  your  progress  at  school,  and  hope  that  you 
will  continue  to  advance,  and  that  I  shall  have  the 
happiness  of  finding  you  much  improved  in  all  your 
studies  on  my  return.  I  shall  not  feel  my  long  sepa- 
ration from  you,  if  I  find  that  my  absence  has  been 
of  no  injury  to  you,  and  that  you  have  both  grown  in 
goodness  and  knowledge,  as  well  as  stature.  But, 
ah !  how  much  I  will  suffer  on  my  return,  if  the  re- 
verse has  occurred  !  You  enter  all  my  thoughts,  into 
all  my  prayers  ;  and  on  you,  in  part,  will  depend 
whether  I  shall  be  happy  or  miserable,  as  you  know 
how  much  I  love  you.  You  must  do  all  in  your  power 
to  save  me  pain. 

You  will  learn,  by  my  letter  to  your  grandmother,  that 
I  have  been  to  Tampico.  I  saw  many  things  to  remind 
me  of  you,  though  that  was  not  necessary  to  make 
me  wish  that  you  were  with  me.  The  river  was  so 
calm  and  beautiful,  and  the  boys  were  playing  about 
in  boats,  and  swimming  their  ponies.  Then  there 
were  troops  of  donkeys  carrying  water  through  the 
streets.  They  had  a  kind  of  saddle,  something  like 
a  cart-saddle,  though  larger,  that  carried  two  ten-gal- 
lon kegs  on  each  side,  which  was  a  load  for  a  donkey. 
They  had   no  bridles  on,   but  would  come  along  in 


No.  48] 


Lees    Letter 


x93 


strings  to  the  river,  and,  as  soon  as  their  kegs  were 
filled,  start  off  again.  They  were  fatter  and  sleeker 
than  any  donkeys  I  had  ever  seen  before,  and  seemed 
to  be  better  cared  for.     I  saw  a  great  many  ponies, 


TAD    LINCOLN. 


too.  They  were  larger  than  those  in  the  upper 
country,  but  did  not  seem  so  enduring.  I  got  one  to 
ride  around  the  fortifications.  He  had  a  Mexican  bit 
and  saddle  on,  and  paced  delightfully,  but,  every  time 
my  sword  struck  him  on  the  flanks,  would  jump  and 
try  to  run  off.     Several  of  them  had  been  broken  to 


1 94     Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors     [No.  4s 

harness  by  the  Americans,  and  I  saw  some  teams,  in 
wagons,  driven  four-in-hand,  well  matched  and  trot- 
ting well. 

We  had  a  grand  parade  on  General  Scott's  arrival. 
The  troops  were  all  drawn  up  on  the  bank  of  the 
river,  and  fired  a  salute  as  he  passed  them.  He 
landed  at  the  market,  where  lines  of  sentinels  were 
placed  to  keep  off  the  crowd.  In  front  of  the  landing 
the  artillery  was  drawn  up,  which  received  him  in  the 
centre  of  the  column,  and  escorted  him  through  the 
streets  to  his  lodgings.  They  had  provided  a  hand- 
some gray  horse,  richly  caparisoned,  for  him,  but  he 
preferred  to. walk,  with  his  staff  around  him,  and  a 
dragoon  led  the  horse  behind  us.  The  windows  along 
the  streets  we  passed  were  crowded  with  people,  and 
the  boys  and  girls  were  in  great  glee,  the  Governor's 
Island  band  playing  all  the  time. 

There  were  six  thousand  soldiers  in  Tampico.  Mr. 
Barry  was  the  adjutant  of  the  escort.  I  think  you  would 
have  enjoyed  with  me  the  oranges  and  sweet-potatoes. 
Major  Smith  became  so  fond  of  the  chocolate  that  I 
could  hardly  get  him  away  from  the  house.  We  only 
remained  there  one  day.  I  have  a  nice  state-room 
on  board  this  ship ;  Joe  Johnston  and  myself  occupy 
it,  but  my  poor  Joe  is  so  sick  all  the  time  I  can  do 
nothing  with  him.  I  left  Jem  to  come  on  with  the 
horses,  as  I  was  afraid  they  would  not  be  properly 
cared  for.  Vessels  were  expressly  fitted  up  for  the 
horses,  and  parties  of  dragoons  detailed  to  take  care 
of  them.  I  had  hoped  they  would  reach  here  by  this 
time,  as  I  wanted  to  see  how  they  were  fixed.  I  took 
every  precaution  for  their  comfort,  provided  them 
with  bran,  oats,  etc.,  and  had  slings  made  to  pass 
under  them  and  attached  to  the  coverings  above,  so 


No.  48]  Lee  s  Letter 


r95 


that,  if  in  the  heavy  sea  they  should  slip,  or  be  thrown 
off  their  feet,  they  could  not  fall. 

I  had  to  sell  my  good  old  horse  Jim,  as  I  could  not 
find  room  for  him,  or,  rather,  I  did  not  want  to  crowd 
the  others.  I  know  I  shall  want  him  when  I  land. 
Creole  was  the  admiration  of  every  one  at  Brazos, 
and  they  hardly  believed  she  had  carried  me  so  far, 
and  looked  so  well.  Jem  says  there  is  nothing  like 
her  in  all  the  country,  and  I  believe  he  likes  her 
better  than  Tom  or  Jerry.  The  sorrel  mare  did  not 
appear  to  be  so  well  after  I  got  to  the  Brazos.  I  had  to 
put  one  of  the  men  on  her,  whose  horse  had  given  out, 
and  the  saddle  hurt  her  back.  She  had  gotten  well, 
however,  before  I  left,  and  I  told  Jem  to  ride  her 
every  day.  I  hope  they  may  both  reach  the  shore 
again  in  safety,  but  I  fear  they  will  have  a  hard  time. 
They  will  first  have  to  be  put  aboard  a  steamboat  and 
carried  to  the  ship  that  lies  about  two  miles  out  at 
sea,  then  hoisted  in,  and  how  we  shall  get  them 
ashore  again,  I  do  not  know ;  probably  throw  them 
overboard,  and  let  them  swim  there. 

I  do  not  think  we  shall  remain  here  more  than  one 
day  longer.  General  Worth's  and  General  Twiggs's 
divisions  have  arrived,  which  include  the  regulars, 
and  I  suppose  the  volunteers  will  be  coming  on  every 
day.  We  shall  probably  go  on  the  1st  down  the 
coast,  select  a  place  for  debarkation,  and  make  all  the 
arrangements  preparatory  to  the  arrival  of  the  troops. 
I  shall  have  plenty  to  do  there,  and  am  anxious  for 
the  time  to  come,  and  hope  all  may  be  successful. 
Tell  Rob  he  must  think  of  me  very  often,  be  a  good 
boy,  and  always  love  papa.  Take  care  of  Speck  and 
the  colts.  Mr.  Sedgwick  and  all  the  officers  send 
their  love  to  you. 


196     Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors     [No.  49 

The  ship  rolls  so  that  I  can  scarcely  write.  You  must 
write  to  me  very  often.  I  am  always  very  glad  to 
hear  from  you.  Be  sure  that  I  am  thinking  of  you, 
and  that  you  have  the  prayers  of  your  affectionate 
father, 

R.  E.  Lee. 


49.    The  Drummer  Boy  of  Marble- 
head 

Ho !  arms  to  strike  and  forward  feet, 

Ere  dries  the  blood  by  dastards  shed ! 
While  scowls  and  gleaming  eyes  that  meet 

Bewail  our  murdered  dead. 
From  Berkshire's  mountains  to  the  Bay, 

Her  rally  Massachusetts  rings, 
Curse  on  the  faltering  step  to-day 

That  shame  upon  her  brings  ! 

This  April  day  which  frowning  dies, 

Betrothed  in  its  natal  hour 
To  hills  that  prop  New  England's  skies, 

Brought  vengeance  for  its  dower  : 
Then  arms  to  strike  and  forward  feet, 

Ere  dries  our  blood  by  dastards  shed ! 
For  men,  upon  each  village  street 

Are  mustering,  as  at  Marblehead. 

Pauses  a  homeward  schoolboy  there ; 

Absorbed  in  thought  he  stands ; 
While  patriots  pass  with  brows  of  care, 

And  muskets  in  their  hands. 


no.  49]  The  Drummer  Boy  197 

Then  starting,  to'  a  comrade  spoke 
That  gallant  boy  of  Marblehead  : 

"  The  tether  of  my  books  is  broke, 
Brace  me  the  drum  instead !  " 


Now  serried  ranks  are  slanting  grim 

Their  bayonets  in  the  summer  beams ; 
And,  keeping  step  to  Freedom's  hymn, 

Southward  the  column  streams. 
"  Your  blessing,  mother  !  cease  to  cry, 

There  really  is  no  cause  for  dread ; 
Our  grand  old  tunes  will  make  them  fly  ! 

Said  the  bold  boy  of  Marblehead. 

New  England's  sons  were  smiting  sore, 

With  whistling  ball  and  sabre  stroke, 
The  rebel  rout  which  fast  before 

Fled  for  the  swamps  of  Roanoke. 
And  in  that  hour  of  steel  and  flame, 

On  and  exultant,  still  there  led, 
While  falling  foemen  felt  his  aim, 

The  drummer-boy  of  Marblehead. 

"  Once  more  we'll  have  our  good  old  air, 

'Tis  fitting  on  this  glorious  field, 
'Twill  quell  the  traitors  in  their  lair, 

And  teach  them  how  to  yield  !  " 
It  swelled,  to  stir  our  hearts  like  flame ; 

Then  back  a  hostile  bullet  sped, 
And  Death  delivered  up  to  Fame 

The  drummer-boy  of  Marblehead. 


g  8      Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors     [No.  50 


50.    A    Boy   Soldier 


dier  in  the 
army. 


johnny  Mc-         When  the  Tenth  Indiana  was  recruited  in  the  fall 
Laughiinwas  of   l86l    they  took  for  their  drummer  a  little  fellow 

the  youngest  '  •■■    T  it  i  •  -■ 

enlisted  sol-  named  Johnny  McLaughlin,  whose  parents  reside  at 
Lafayette,  Indiana.  He  was  then  a  little  over  ten 
years  of  age,  and  beat  his  tattoo  at  the  head  of  the 
regiment  for  several  months  of  active  service. 

At  Donelson  and  at  Shiloh,  when  the  drum-beats 
were  drowned  in  the  deeper  roar  of  battle,  Johnny 
laid  down  his  sticks,  and  taking  the  musket  and  car- 
tridge box  from  a  dead  soldier,  went  out  to  the  front, 
and  fought  as  bravely  as  the  stoutest  soldier  in  the 
regiment.  Escaping  unhurt  in  each  of  these  engage- 
ments, he  was  enamoured  of  soldier  life,  and  sought 
a  transfer  from  the  infantry  to  Colonel  Jacob's  Ken- 
tucky cavalry.  Being  favorably  impressed  with  the 
spirit  and  zeal  of  the  young  warrior,  Colonel  Jacob 
put  him  into  his  best  company,  and  mounted  him  on 
a  good  horse.  At  the  engagement  at  Richmond, 
which  soon  followed,  in  the  summer  of  1862,  he 
fought  with  as  much  coolness  and  skill  as  any  of  his 
company,  handling  his  sabre,  revolver,  and  revolving 
rifle  with  the  address  of  a  veteran. 

In  October  following,  he  was  in  another  battle,  at 
Perryville,  where  he  received  his  first  wound,  a  ball 
passing  through  the  leg  above  the  knee. 

In  this  engagement  Colonel  Jacob,  with  a  part  of 
his  command,  was  temporarily  separated  from  the 
greater  part  of  the  regiment,  and  while  thus  cut  off 
was  attacked  by  a  largely  superior  force  of  the 
enemy,  led  by  a  Major.  Colonel  Jacob  was  deliber- 
ating for  a  moment  on  the  demand  to  surrender,  when 


No.  50] 


A  Boy  Soldier 


199 


the  little  hero  drew  his  pistol  and  shot  the  Major 
in  the  mouth,  killing  him  instantly.  A  few  moments 
of  confusion  and  delay  followed  in  the  rebel  regiment, 
during  which  Colonel  Jacob  and  his  men  escaped. 


BOY    SOLDIERS. 

A  few  weeks  after,  he  was  engaged  in  a  skirmish 
with  some  of  John  Morgan's  men,  who  were  raiding 
through  Kentucky,  and  the  fighting  was  severe. 

Johnny  was  set  upon  by  a  strapping  fellow,  who 
gave  him  a  pretty  severe  cut  on  the  leg  with  his 
sabre,  and  knocked  him  off  his  horse.  A  moment 
after,  another  rebel  seized  him  by  the 'collar,  and  ex- 
claimed :  "  We've  got  one  little  Yankee,  anyhow." 
The  little  Yankee  did  not  see  it  in  that  light,  however, 
and  quickly  drawing  his  pistol,  shot  his  captor  dead, 


200     Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors     [No.  51 

and  a  moment  after  the  rebels  were  routed,  and  he 
escaped  capture. 

As  he  was  going  back  to  Indiana  on  furlough  to 
give  his  wound  time  to  heal,  he  was  stopped  at  one 
point  by  a  provost  guard,  and  his  pass  demanded. 

"  O,"  said  he,  "  the  Colonel  didn't  give  me  one,  but 
just  told  me  to  go  along  with  the  rest.  But,"  added 
the  little  soldier,  showing  his  wound,  "  here's  a  pass 
the  rebs  gave  me ;  isn't  that  good  enough  for  a  little 
fellow  like  me  ? "     The  guard  thought  it  was. 

His  wound  proved  quite  serious,  and,  much  to  his 
surprise,  and  against  his  wishes,  he  received  his  dis- 
charge in  consequence  of  this  and  his  extreme  youth- 
fulness.  Not  relishing  civil  life  as  long  as  the 
hostilities  lasted,  he  applied  at  a  recruiting  office,  but 
the  condition  of  his  leg  excluded  him. 

Nothing  daunted,  however,  he  sought  and  obtained 
an  interview  with  the  President,  who  on  hearing  the 
story  of  the  boyish  veteran,  gave  a  special  order  for 
his  enlistment. 

He  had  now  made  up  his  mind  to  follow  the  life  of 
a  soldier,  and  joined  the  regular  army  of  the  United 
States  as  a  bugler  in  the  cavalry  service,  and  makes 
as  fine-looking,  neat,  and  obedient  a  little  dragoon  as 
there  is  in  the  army. 


51.    The  Loyal  Drummer-Boy 

(1861) 

A  few  days  before  our  regiment  received  orders 
to  join  General  Lyon,  on  his  march  to  Wilson's  Creek, 
the  drummer  of  our  company  was  taken  sick  and  con- 


no.  51]        Loyal  Drummer-Boy         201 


veyed  to  the  hospital,  and  on  the  evening  preceding 
the  day  that  we  were  to  march,  a  negro  was  arrested 
within  the  lines  of  the  camp,  and  brought  before  our 
captain,  who  asked  him  what  business  he  had  within 
the  lines  ?  He  replied  :  "  I  know  a  drummer  that 
you  would  like  to  enlist  in  your  company,  and  I  have 
come  to  tell  you  of  it."  He  was  immediately  re- 
quested to  inform  the  drummer  that  if  he  would  en- 
list for  our  short  term  of  service,  he  would  be  allowed 
extra  pay,  and  to  do  this,  he  must  be  on  the  ground 
early  in  the  morn- 
ing. The  negro  was 
then  passed  beyond 
the  guard. 

On  the  following 
morning  there  ap- 
peared before  the 
captain's  quarters 
during  the  beating 
of  the  reveille,  a 
good-looking,  mid- 
dle-aged woman,  dressed  in  deep  mourning,  leading 
by  the  hand  a  sharp,  sprightly-looking  boy,  apparently 
about  twelve  or  thirteen  years  of  age.  Her  story  was 
soon  told.  She  was  from  East  Tennessee,  where  her 
husband  had  been  killed  by  the  rebels,  and  all  their 
property  destroyed.  She  had  come  to  St.  Louis  in 
search  of  her  sister,  but  not  finding  her,  and  being 
destitute  of  money,  she  thought  if  she  could  procure  a 
situation  for  her  boy  as  a  drummer  for  the  short  time 
that  we  had  to  remain  in  the  service,  she  could  find 
employment  for  herself,  and  perhaps  find  her  sister  by 
the  time  we  were  discharged. 

During  the  rehearsal  of  her  story  the  little  fellow 


A   BOY'S    DRUM. 


2  o  2      Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors     [No.  5i 

kept  his  eyes  intently  fixed  upon  the  countenance  of 
the  captain,  who  was  about  to  express  a  determina- 
tion not  to  take  so  small  a  boy,  when  he  spoke  out : 
"  Don't  be  afraid,  captain,  I  can  drum."  This  was 
spoken  with  so  much  confidence,  that  the  captain  im- 
mediately observed,  with  a  smile:  "  Well, well,  sergeant, 
bring  the  drum,  and  order  our  fifer  to  come  forward." 
In  a  few  moments  the  drum  was  produced,  and  our  fifer 
a  tall,  round-shouldered,  good-natured  fellow,  from  the 
Dubuque  mines,  who  stood,  when  erect,  something 
over  six  feet  in  height,  soon  made  his  appearance. 

Upon  being  introduced  to  his  new  comrade,  he 
stooped  down,  with  his  hands  resting  upon  his  knees, 
that  were  thrown  forward  into  an  acute  angle,  and 
after  peering  into  the  little  fellow's  face  a  moment, 
he  observed :  "  My  little  man,  can  you  drum  ? " 
"Yes,  sir,"  he  replied,  "  I  drummed  for  Captain  Hill 
in  Tennessee."  Our  fifer  immediately  commenced 
straightening  himself  upward  until  all  the  angles  in 
his  person  had  disappeared,  when  he  placed  his  fife 
at  his  mouth,  and  played  the  "  Flowers  of  Edinbor- 
ough,"  one  of  the  most  difficult  things  to  follow  with 
the  drum  that  could  have  been  selected,  and  nobly 
did  the  little  fellow  follow  him,  showing  himself  to  be 
a  master  of  the  drum.  When  the  music  ceased,  our 
captain  turned  to  the  mother  and  observed  :  "  Madam, 
I  will  take  your  boy.  What  is  his  name  ? "  "  Ed- 
ward Lee,"  she  replied;  then  placing  her  hand  upon 
the  captain's  arm,  she  continued,  "  Captain,  if  he  is 
not  killed"  —  here  her  maternal  feelings  overcame 
her  utterance,  and  she  bent  down  over  her  boy  and 
kissed  him  upon  the  forehead.  As  she  arose,  she 
observed,  "  Captain,  you  will  bring  him  back  with 
you,  won't  you  ?  " 


no.  5i]        Loyal  Drummer-Boy        203 

"  Yes,  .yes,"  he  replied,  "  we  will  be  certain  to 
bring  him  back  with  us.  We  shall  be  discharged  in 
six  weeks." 

In  an  hour  after,  our  company  led  the  Iowa  First 
out  of  camp,  our  drum  and  fife  playing  "  The  girl  I 
left  behind  me."  Eddie,  as  we  called  him,  soon  be- 
came a  great  favorite  with  all  the  men  in  the  com- 
pany. When  any  of  the  boys  had  returned  from  a 
horticultural  excursion,  Eddie's  share  of  the  peaches 
and  melons  was  the  first  apportioned  out.  During 
our  heavy  and  fatiguing  march  from  Rolla  to  Spring- 
field, it  was  often  amusing  to  see  our  long-legged  fifer 
wading  through  the  mud  with  our  little  drummer 
mounted  upon  his  back,  and  always  in  that  position 
when  fording  streams. 

During  the  fight  at  Wilson's  Creek  I  was  stationed 
with  a  part  of  our  company  on  the  right  of  Totten's 
battery,  while  the  balance  of  our  company,  with  a 
part  of  the  Illinois  regiment,  was  ordered  down  into 
a  deep  ravine  upon  our  left,  in  which  it  was  known  a 
portion  of  the  enemy  was  concealed,  with  whom  they 
were  soon  engaged.  The  contest  in  the  ravine  con- 
tinuing some  time,  Totten  suddenly  wheeled  his  bat- 
tery upon  the  enemy  in  that  quarter,  when  they  soon 
retreated  to  the  high  ground  behind  their  lines.  In 
less  than  twenty  minutes  after,  Totten  had  driven 
the  enemy  from  the  ravine,  the  word  passed  from 
man  to  man  throughout  the  army,  "  Lyon  is  killed  !  " 
and  soon  after,  hostilities  having  ceased  upon  both 
sides,  the  order  came  for  our  main  force  to  fall  back 
upon  Springfield,  while  a  part  of  the  Iowa  First  and 
two  companies  of  the  Missouri  regiment  were  to  camp 
upon  the  ground  and  cover  the  retreat  next  morning. 
That  night  I  was  detailed  for  guard  duty,  my  turn  of 


204     Soy  Soldiers  and  Sailors     [No.  51 

guard  closing  with  the  morning  call.  When  I  went 
out  with  the  officer  as  a  relief,  I  found  that  my  post 
was  upon  a  high  eminence  that  overlooked  the  deep 
ravine  in  which  our  men  had  engaged  the  enemy, 
until  Totten's  battery  came  to  their  assistance.  It 
was  a  dreary,  lonesome  beat.  The  moon  had  gone 
down  in  the  early  part  of  the  night,  while  the  stars 
twinkled  dimly  through  a  hazy  atmosphere,  lighting 
up  imperfectly  the  surrounding  objects.  Occasion- 
ally I  would  place  my  ear  near  the  ground  and  listen 
for  the  sound  of  footsteps,  but  all  was  silent  save  the 
far-off  howling  of  the  wolf,  that  seemed  to  scent  upon 
the  evening  air  the  banquet  that  we  had  been  pre- 
paring for  him.  The  hours  passed  slowly  away, 
when  at  length  the  morning  light  began  to  streak 
along  the  eastern  sky,  making  surrounding  objects 
more  plainly  visible.  Presently  I  heard  a  drum  beat 
up  the  morning  call.  At  first  I  thought  it  came  from 
the  camp  of  the  enemy  across  the  creek ;  but  as  I 
listened,  I  found  that  it  came  up  from  the  deep  ra- 
vine ;  for  a  few  minutes  it  was  silent,  and  then  as  it 
became  more  light  I  heard  it  again.  I  listened  —  the 
sound  of  the  drum  was  familiar  to  me  —  and  I  knew 
that  it  was  our  drummer-boy  from  Tennessee. 

I  was  about  to  desert  my  post  to  go  to  his  assist- 
ance, when  I  discovered  the  officer  of  the  guard 
approaching  with  two  men.  We  all  listened  to  the 
sound,  and  were  satisfied  that  it  was  Eddie's  drum. 
I  asked  permission  to  go  to  his  assistance.  The  offi- 
cer hesitated,  saying  that  the  orders  were  to  march  in 
twenty  minutes.  I  promised  to  be  back  in  that  time, 
and  he  consented.  I  immediately  started  down  the 
hill  through  the  thick  undergrowth,  and  upon  reach- 
ing the  valley  I  followed  the  sound  of  the  drum,  and 


No.  51]        Loyal  Drummer- Boy         205 

soon  found  him  seated  upon  the  ground,  his  back 
leaning  against  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree,  while  his 
drum  hung  upon  a  bush  in  front  of  him,  reaching 
nearly  to  the  ground.  As  soon  as  he  discovered  me 
he  dropped  his  drumsticks  and  exclaimed,  "  O  Cor- 
poral !  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you.  Give  me  a  drink," 
reaching  out  his  hand  for  my  canteen,  which  was 
empty.  I  immediately  turned  to  bring  him  some 
water  from  the  brook  that  I  could  hear  rippling 
through  the  bushes  near  by,  when,  thinking  that  I 
was  about  to  leave  him,  he  commenced  crying,  say- 
ing:  "  Don't  leave  me,  Corporal  —  I  can't  walk."  I 
was  soon  back  with  the  water,  when  I  discovered 
that  both  of  his  feet  had  been  shot  away  by  a  cannon- 
ball.  After  satisfying  his  thirst,  he  looked  up  into 
my  face  and  said  :  "  You  don't  think  I  will  die,  Cor- 
poral, do  you  ?  This  man  said  I  would  not  —  he  said 
the  surgeon  could  cure  my  feet."  I  now  discovered 
a  man  lying  in  the  grass  near  him.  By  his  dress  I 
recognized  him  as  belonging  to  the  enemy.  It  ap- 
peared that  he  had  been  shot  and  fallen  near  where 
Eddie  lay.  Knowing  that  he  could  not  live,  and  see- 
ing the  condition  of  the  boy,  he  had  crawled  to  him, 
taken  off  his  buckskin  suspenders,  and  corded  the 
little  fellow's  legs  below  the  knee,  and  then  laid  down 
and  died.  While  he  was  telling  me  these  particulars, 
I  heard  the  tramp  of  cavalry  coming  down  the  ra- 
vine, and  in  a  moment  a  scout  of  the  enemy  was  upon 
us,  and  I  was  taken  prisoner.  I  requested  the  offi- 
cer to  take  Eddie  up  in  front  of  him,  and  he  did  so, 
carrying  him  with  great  tenderness  and  care.  When 
we  reached  the  camp  of  the  enemy  the  little  fellow 
was  dead. 


206     Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors     [No.  52 
52.    The  Dead  Drummer-Boy 

'Midst  tangled  roots  that  lined  the  wild  ravine 

Where  the  fierce  fight  raged  hottest  through  the  day, 
And  where  the  dead  in  scattered  heaps  were  seen, 
Amid  the  darkling  forest ;  shade  and  sheen, 
Speechless  in  death  he  lay. 


The  setting  sun,  which  glanced  athwart  the  place 

In  slanting  lines,  like  amber-tinted  rain, 
Fell  sidewise  on  the  drummer's  upturned  face, 
Where  death  had  left  his  gory  finger's  trace 
In  one  bright  crimson  stain. 

The  silken  fringes  of  his  once  bright  eye 

Lay  like  a  shadow  on  his  cheek  so  fair ; 
His  lips  were  parted  by  a  long-drawn  sigh, 
That  with  his  soul  had  mounted  to  the  sky, 
On  some  wild  martial  air. 


No  more  his  hand  the  fierce  tattoo  shall  beat, 

The  shrill  reveille,  or  the  long  roll's  call, 
Or  sound  the  charge,  when  in  the  smoke  and  heat 
Of  fiery  onset,  foe  with  foe  shall  meet, 
And  gallant  men  shall  fall. 

Yet  may  be  in  some  happy  home,  that  one, 
A  mother,  reading  from  the  list  of  dead, 
Shall  chance  to  view  the  name  of  her  dear  son, 
And  move  her  lips  to  say,  "  God's  will  be  done !  " 
And  bow  in  grief  her  head. 


No. 


53]        Dead  Drummer-Boy         207 


But  more  than  this  what  tongue  shall  tell  his  story  ? 

Perhaps  his  boyish  longings  were  for  fame ; 
He  lived,  he  died ;  and  so,  memento  mori,  — 
Enough  if  on  the  page  of  War  and  Glory 
Some  hand  has  writ  his  name. 


53.      A  Middy's  Experiences 

By  Robley  D.  Evans  (1862) 


In  June,  1862,  we  started  on  our  first  real  practice  Midshipman 

cruise,  using  for  the  purpose  the  sloop  of  war,  JoJin  Evansr°seto 

»  °  r       r  r  .  '  ^  be  an  admi- 

Adams.     We  were  crowded  into  her  like  sardines  in  raianddis- 

a  box,  and  had  no  end  of  hard  work,  with  whatever  tinguished 
we  could  find  to  eat,  and  all  in  all  about  as  little  com- 


fort as  a  set  of  youngsters  ever  experienced ;  but  we 
made  great  headway  in  learning  our  business  as  sea- 
men. The  ship  was  uncomfortable,  as  all  her  class 
were,  but  at  the  same  time  seaworthy  and  safe.  She 
would  run  well  when  off  the  wind,  but  with  everything 
braced  sharp  up  when  there  was  any  sea  on  she 
would  butt  three  times  at  a  sea  and  then  go  round 
it.  Before  the  wind  she  rolled  so  that  all  hands  had 
trouble  in  sleeping  at  night ;  but  with  all  her  defects 
she  carried  us  safely  as  far  south  as  -Port  Royal, 
South  Carolina,  and  brought  us  safely  back  to 
Newport. 

At  Port  Royal  we  saw  Admiral  Dupont's  splendid 
fleet,  comprising  many  of  the  finest  ships  in  the  navy. 
Among  them  all  the  Wabash  seemed  to  me  the  most 
perfect. 

I  shall  always  remember  an  incident  of  my  visit  to 
this  ship.     As  we  went  over  the  side,  a  large  black 


Spanish  War 
of  1808. 


2  o  8      Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors    [No.  53 

bear  stood  on  his  hind  legs  at  the  gangway,  among 
the  side  boys,  hat  in  hand,  and  saluting  each  officer 
as  he  went  on  board.  I  saw  him  as  I  came  up  the 
side,  and  not  proposing  to  give  him  a  chance  at  me, 
jumped  for  the  main  chains  and  went  over  that  way, 
much  to  the  amusement  of  the  officers.  A  short  time 
after  this,  his  bearship  came  to  grief,  and  had  to  be 
sent  on  shore.  He  was  very  fond  of  alcohol,  and, 
having  filled  up  and  become  ugly,  turned  into  the 
bunk  of  one  of  the  lieutenants,  who,  finding  his  bed 
occupied,  turned  in  somewhere  else,  until  his  time 
came  for  duty.  The  quartermaster  being  sent  down 
during  the  night  to  call  the  lieutenant,  and  getting  no 
answer,  undertook  to  awake  him  by  shaking  him,  which 
so  enraged  the  bear  in  his  half-drunken  condition,  that 
he  bit  the  quartermaster  so  badly  that  he  lost  one  of 
his  legs. 

During  this  cruise  the  midshipmen  were  stationed 
as  a  crew  for  the  vessel,  and  did  all  the  work  of  the 
different  ratings.  When  off  Hatteras  on  our  way 
North  our  efficiency  was  thoroughly  tested.  At 
about  ten  o'clock  the  ship  was  struck  by  a  sudden 
heavy  squall,  accompanied  by  rain  and  hail.  All 
hands  were  called  to  reef  topsails,  the  watch  on 
deck  having  successfully  handled  the  light  sails. 
We  were  close  enough  to  the  Diamond  Shoal  to 
make  haste  a  matter  of  importance,  and  the  officers 
hustled  us  up  without  much  ceremony.  The  topsails 
were  quickly  reefed,  and  I  had  just  secured  the  lee 
earing  on  the  main  topsail  yard  when  I  heard  the 
order,  "  Hoist  away  the  topsails  !  "  I  was  straddling 
the  yard  at  that  time,  and  j  ust  about  to  swing  to  the  foot 
rope  and  lay  down  from  aloft ;  but  I  changed  my  mind 
very  suddenly,  and  instead  hugged  the  topsail  yard, 


no.  53]         Middy's  Experiences  209 

until  I  am  sure  you  could  have  found  the  marks  of 
my  arms  on  the  paint.  It  was  as  black  as  a  pocket, 
raining  in  torrents,  and  as  the  yards  were  braced  up 
the  topsails  filled  and  the  ship  made  a  butt  at  a 
heavy  sea.  I  thought  my  time  had  come.  I  reached 
the  deck,  however,  in  safety,  only  to  be  properly 
dressed  down  by  the  officer  of  the  deck  for  being  slow 
in  laying  down  from  aloft.  We  were  back  at  Newport 
again  in  September,  better  for  our  work,  and  ready  to 
enjoy  the  short  leave  that  was  then  given  us. 

During  the  winter  of  this  year  I  again  made  acquaint-  The  famous 
ance  with  the  dark  room  on  board  the  Constitution,  took^e1"0** 
Two  of  us  were  walking  about  during  the  evening  in  Java  in  1813. 
the  park  opposite  our  quarters,  when  I  saw  a  watch- 
man sneaking  through  the  trees  to  catch  some 
fellows  who  were  violating  regulations.  The  chance 
was  very  tempting,  and  without  waiting  to  count  the 
cost  I  landed  a  good-sized  stone  fairly  behind  the 
watchman's  ear,  sending  him  to  the  hospital  for 
repairs.  Unfortunately  for  me,  there  was  a  citizen 
nearby  who  gave  the  commandant  so  good  a  descrip- 
tion of  me  that  I  was  sent  for  the  next  morning,  and 
promptly  sent  on  board  ship  and  locked  up.  This 
was  bad  enough  in  all  reason,  but  I  soon  made  it 
worse.  The  officer  of  the  day,  wishing  to  show 
proper  respect  for  a  senior,  smuggled  me  a  novel 
and  a  candle,  and,  having  arranged  my  blanket  so 
as  to  shut  out  curious  eyes,  I  read  my  novel  in 
peace  until  the  sentry,  a  sailor  with  a  cutlass,  pried 
the  blanket  to  one  side.  I  blew  the  candle  out  at 
once,  and  then  arranged  the  spring  in  the  candle- 
stick, so  that  I  could  shoot  the  candle  out  when 
necessary.  Then  I  lighted  it  again,  and  taking  a 
position  favorable  for  my  purpose,  I  waited  for  the 


2  i  o     Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors     [No.  54 

sailor;  and,  as  he  again  cautiously  pried  the  blanket 
aside,  I  fired  the  candle  through  the  opening.  Unfor- 
tunately it  struck  Jackey  in  the  eye,  and  thinking  his 
head  was  shot  off  he  bolted  from  his  station. 

In  short  while  the  commanding  officer  was  on  the 
scene,  and  then  an  end  was  put  to  my  sport.  I  was 
marched  out,  the  room  searched,  the  door  boarded 
up  solid,  and  the  key  again  turned  on  me.  This 
time  there  was  not  the  least  semblance  of  fun  about 
it.  For  two  weeks  I  was  kept  locked  up  and  then 
released ;  but  for  several  days  I  could  do  nothing  as 
the  light  hurt  my  eyes  dreadfully.  It  seemed  to 
require  a  very  practical  demonstration  to  convince 
me  that  I  had  to  do  as  I  was  told.  This  last  expe- 
rience went  a  long  way  in  that  direction. 


54.    Gone  to  the  War 

By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  (1861) 

My  Charlie  has  gone  to  the  war, 
My  Charlie  so  brave  and  tall ; 

He  left  his  plough  in  the  furrow 
And  flew  at  his  country's  call. 

May  God  in  safety  keep  him, 
My  precious  boy  —  my  all. 

My  heart  is  pining  to  see  him, 

I  miss  him  every  day ; 
My  heart  is  weary  with  waiting, 

And  sick  of  the  long  delay. 
But  I  know  his  country  needs  him, 

And  I  could  not  bid  him  stay. 


no.  54J  Gone  to  the  War  211 

I  remember  how  his  face  flushed, 

And  how  his  color  came, 
When  the  flash  from  the  guns  of  Sumter 

Lit  the  whole  land  with  flame, 
And  darkened  our  country's  banner 

With  the  crimson  hue  of  shame. 

"  Mother,"  he  said,  then  faltered,  — 

I  felt  his  mute  appeal ; 
I  paused,  —  if  you  are  a  mother, 

You  know  what  mothers  feel, 
When  called  to  yield  their  dear  ones 

To  the  cruel  bullet  and  steel. 

My  heart  stood  still  for  a  moment, 

Struck  with  a  mighty  woe  ; 
A  faint  of  death  came  o'er  me,  — 

I  am  a  mother,  you  know,  — 
But  I  sternly  checked  my  weakness, 

And  firmly  bade  him  "  Go." 

Wherever  the  fight  is  fiercest 

I  know  that  my  boy  will  be ; 
Wherever  the  need  is  sorest 

Of  the  stout  arms  of  the  free, 
May  he  prove  as  true  to  his  country 

As  he  has  been  true  to  me ! 

My  home  is  lonely  without  him, 

My  heart  bereft  of  joy,  — 
The  thought  of  him  who  has  left  me 

My  constant,  sad  employ  ; 
But  God  has  been  good  to  the  mother ; 

She  shall  not  blush  for  her  boy. 


2  12      Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors     [No.  55 


55.    A  Boy  who  won  the  Cross 

By  a  Southern  Lady  (1863) 

The  expected  battle  has  not  yet  come  off,  and 
I  am  still  awaiting  the  result ;  busying  myself  about 
many  things,  visiting  and  returning  visits  from  my 


GENERAL   CUSTER. 

old  friends ;  dividing  my  time  between  the  world  and 
the  hospital,  the  lights  and  shades  of  life.  Ah,  the 
shades !  My  dear  Jennie,  you  can  little  imagine 
how  much  suffering  I  have  witnessed  in  the  last  few 
weeks  —  how  much,  that  acts  or  kind  words  have  no 
power  to  mitigate.     There  have  been  many  wounded 


no.  55]       A  Boy  wins  the  Cross        213 

brought  in  from  Corinth,  many  who  have  died  since 
their  arrival,  many  who  will  die ;  but,  saddest  of  all, 
a  young  boy,  too  young  to  be  a  soldier,  yet  possessing 
all  a  soldier's  spirit.  I  walked  into  a  ward,  one  morn- 
ing, that  I  had  visited  the  evening  before  —  a  ward 
of  very  sick  patients  —  and  saw  an  old  man  sitting 
by  a  new  cot,  fanning  a  young  boy,  who  lay  with 
flushed  face,  and  burning  eyes  fixed  on  the  ceiling. 
As  I  advanced  toward  them,  the  weather-bronzed 
man  stood  stiffly  erect,  making  me  a  quaint,  half- 
awkward,  military  salute,  saying,  as  he  did  so,  "  My 
boy,  ma'am!"  "Is  he  wounded?"  I  asked.  He 
threw  back  the  sheet  that  covered  him,  pointed  to 
the  stump  of  a  limb  amputated  near  the  thigh ;  "  He 
has  gained  the  cross,"  he  said,  while  his  head  grew 
more  erect,  as  he  held  back  the  sheet  with  the  fan, 
and  his  eye  shot  out  the  grim  ghost  of  a  smile. 

A  proud,  iron  soldier  the  man  was,  I  could  see. 
The  boy  was  delirious ;  so  I  shall  tell  you  of  the 
man.  Refusing  to  be  seated  as  long  as  a  lady  re- 
mained standing  in  the  room,  he  stood  stiffly  upright 
at  the  head  of  the  cot,  keeping  each  fly  from  the  face 
of  the  boy  with  the  tenderness  of  a  mother.  A  limp 
brown  hat  was  on  the  side  of  his  head,  shading  his 
eyes,  that  followed  me  in  all  parts  of  the  room.  A 
red  cord  and  tassel  hung  from  one  side  of  his  hat, 
and  gave  him  a  jaunty  air  that  was  quite  out  of  keep- 
ing with  the  quaint  stiffness  of  his  manner.  After 
speaking  to  the  sick  and  wounded  soldiers  around, 
asking  after  their  wounds  and  wants,  I  returned  to 
the  young  boy's  cot,  and  heard  the  old  man's  story. 
Don't  be  weary  if  I  give  it  to  you  ;  he  had  so  much 
pride  in  his  boy,  let  that  be  my  extenuation. 

"  We  belong  to   the   Texas   Rangers,  ma'am,  the 


214     Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors     [No.  55 

boy  and  me ;  he  could  ride  as  well  as  the  rest  of 
them,  ma'am,  a  year  ago.  When  the  war  broke  out, 
and  we  practised  regularly,  he  was  the  best  rider  in 
the  company  —  could  pick  anything  he  wanted  off 
the  ground  as  he  was  going.  He's  only  fourteen, 
ma'am  —  a  fine-grown  lad,  indeed.  His  mother  was 
the  likeliest  woman  I  ever  saw,"  with  a  deprecating 
bow  to  me ;  "  he's  got  her  eyes  —  the  finest  eyes 
God  ever  made,  she  had,  ma'am.  She  died  when 
quite  young,  leaving  him  to  me,  a  little  shaver,  and 
he's  been  by  me  ever  since.  The  boys  and  me  tried 
to  overpersuade  him  out  of  the  army;  'peared  like 
he  was  too  young  for  such  business ;  but  he  wouldn't 
hear  to  it,  not  he,  ma'am,  and  here  he  is,"  passing 
his  sleeve  across  his  eyes. 

"  Well,  ma'am,  so  he  staid  with  us ;  and  when  we 
got  to  Corinth,  General  Beauregard  offered  a  cross 
of  honor  to  the  ones  that  showed  themselves  the  best 
soldiers.  So  our  boys  talked  a  heap  about  who'd  get 
it ;  but  this  boy  says  nothing.  Well,  one  day  we 
were  ordered  out  to  scout,  and  we  came  up  with  the 
Yankees,  and  we  fought  'em  a  half  hour  or  so,  when 
I  saw  this  youngster  by  my  side  kind  of  drooping  by 
a  tree,  but  standing  his  ground.  Well,  we  routed 
them  at  last,  when  I  found  the  boy's  leg  was  all 
shattered,  and  he  had  kept  up  as  though  nothing 
was  the  matter.  So  when  we  went  back  to  Corinth, 
it  got  noised  about  from  the  soldiers  to  the  officers 
—  how  he'd  held  out.  And,  more'n  all,  the  time 
when  his  leg  was  being  cut  off,  we  couldn't  get  any 
chloroform,  morphine,  or  the  like  :  he  just  sit  up  like 
a  brave  lad,  and  off  it  went,  without  a  word  out  of 
him.  So  the  doctors  they  talked  of  that ;  and  he's 
been  notified  that  he'll  get  the  first  cross,  and   the 


no.  55]       A  Boy  wins  the  Cross        215 

boys'll  be  monstrous  fond  of  him,  and  feel  most  like 
they'd  got  it  themselves.  If  he'd  get  rid  of  his  fever 
and  pick  up  like,  I'd  be  a  happy  man,"  he  said 
anxiously. 

The  boy  that  gained  a  double  cross  at  Corinth  has 
closed  his  eyes  softly  and  calmly.  Suffering  will 
never  disturb  him  more.  He  is  dead.  The  old  man 
has  gone  back  to  his  company  with  spasms  of  pain 
in  his  heart,  of  which  the  world  will  never  know. 

Let  me  tell  you  of  the  man's  devotion.  The  boy's 
fever  still  raged,  with  slighter  and  slighter  intervals. 
The  medicine  failed  to  procure  the  desired  effect. 
The  physicians  looked  anxious  as  they  approached 
his  cot.  I  wanted  to  take  the  old  man's  hand  and 
tell  him  of  the  Friend  in  heaven,  from  whom  death 
itself  can  never  separate  us  ;  but  a  foolish  fear  with- 
held me.  One  night  the  physicians  met  around  the 
little  cot,  the  old  man,  as  usual  when  others  were 
near,  standing  stiffly  at  the  head,  yet,  with  alarmed 
and  burning  eyes,  intently  reading,  each  face.  A  sad 
reading,  hopeless  —  the  eyes  told  that,  while  the  hand 
sought  the  faintly  beating  pulse.  "  Doctor,  may  I  try 
to  save  my  boy  my  own  way  ?  "  said  the  old  man,  fol- 
lowing the  physician  into  the  hall.  "  Yes,  do  as  you 
choose  with  him,  only  do  not  give  him  unnecessary 
pain." 

In  the  morning  a  large  tub  of  cold  water  was  taken 
to  the  ward  and  placed  by  the  sick  boy's  cot ;  and,  to 
the  dismay  of  the  soldiers  in  the  beds  around,  the  boy 
was  lifted  out,  wounded  as  he  was,  by  the  strong  and 
gentle  arms  of  one  in  whose  eyes  he  was  more  pre- 
cious than  the  rarest  of  diamonds  and  gold.  A  quick 
douse,  and  he  was  rubbed  well,  covered  closely,  and 
soon  slept  soundly,  the  perspiration  breaking  out  pro- 


2  1 6     Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors     [No.  55 

fusely  for  the  first  time  in  two  days.  He  was  decid- 
edly better,  and  the  proud  smile  on  the  father's  face 
was  a  happy  thing  to  see.  Gradually  he  grew  more 
feeble,  the  fever  returned,  and  one  morning,  with  an 
aching  heart,  I  saw  the  calmness  of  death  in  the 
closed  eyes  and  motionless  nostril.  Standing  at  the 
head  of  the  bed,  his  hat  drawn  over  his  eyes,  his  arms 
folded  in  a  stern  and  patient  agony,  the  father  stood 
watching  yet,  most  faithfully.  I  cannot  express  to 
you  the  grief  that  my  sympathy  brought  —  the  grief, 
and  constantly  the  words  :  "  Alone  !  all  alone  !  My 
boy  !  oh,  my  boy  !  " 

The  ladies  wished  to  have  a  large  funeral  over  the 
brave,  young  soldier  ;  but  the  physicians  would  not 
consent  to  having  him  buried  in  town,  saying  that  the 
soldiers  were  all  worthy  of  attention,  and  that  no  dis- 
tinction could  be  allowed.  So,  before  he  was  buried, 
I  went  out  to  the  hospital  and  looked  my  last  on  the 
young,  dead  face,  from  which  all  trace  of  suffering 
had  fled  :  only  peace  and  rest  now  forever ! 

Pain  and  anguish  were  making  a  deep  impress  on 
the  face  of  the  man  by  the  head :  the  drawn  lines  of 
watching  and  suffering  were  more  evident,  as  with  a 
strained  smile,  and  almost  a  gasp  of  pain,  he  thanked 
me  for  the  interest  I  had  taken.  "  Everybody  is  so 
kind!  "  he  said.  He  had  gone  into  town  that  morn- 
ing and  purchased  a  little  black  coat,  placing  it  on 
the  small  form.  A  black  velvet  vest,  white  bosom, 
and  the  cravat  tied  over  the  white,  boyish  throat,  told 
of  the  tenderness  that  shrank  not  from  the  coldness 
of  death. 

"  He's  like  his  mother,  ma'am,  more  than  ever, 
now,"  he  whispered,  softly  drawing  the  sheet  over 
the  inanimate  form ;   and  turning    squarely  around, 


no.  56]      A  Visit  from  Neptune       217 

with   his   back   to  me,  I    saw  him  draw  again    and 
again  his  sleeve  across  his  eyes. 


56.    A   Visit   from    Neptune 

By  Cornelius  E.  Hunt  (1863) 

It  is  a  custom  as  old  as  sailing,  for  aught  I  know, 
for  every  armed  vessel  on  passing  the  equator  to  re- 
ceive a  visit  from  his  aquatic  Godship  Neptune,  who 
is  supposed  to  hold  his  court  in  that  locality,  suffer- 
ing no  ship  to  pass  until  he  has  satisfied  himself  by 
personal  inspection  that  there  are  none  on  board  but 
regularly  initiated  sailors ;  that  is,  those  who  have 
previously  crossed  the  line  and  submitted  to  his 
initiatory  rites.  We  had  a  number  of  novices  among 
officers  and  men,  and  consequently  the  event  was 
anticipated  with  even  more  than  ordinary  interest. 

It  was  just  gone  eight  bells  in  the  evening,  when  a 
rough  voice  over  the  bows  was  heard  hailing  the  ship. 

"  What's  wanting  ?  "  said  the  officer  of  the  deck. 

"  Heave  to.  I  want  to  come  on  board,"  was  the 
surly  response. 

The  requisite  orders  were  given,  and  a  few  mo- 
ments after  a  gigantic  figure  was  seen  ascending 
the  side,  dressed  in  an  oil-skin  coat,  and  wearing  a 
wig  of  Manilla  yarn,  which,  at  a  little  distance,  had 
the  appearance  of  yellow  curly  hair. 

He  was  accompanied  by  another  grotesque  figure 
representing  his  wife,  and  the  two  were  followed  by 
a  third,  who  was  supposed  to  be  His  Majesty's  con- 
fidential barber,  provided  with  the  utensils  of  his  call- 
ing, which  consisted   of   a   bucket   of   slush,  and  a 


2  i  8      Boy  Soldiers  and  Sailors     [No.  5e 

preposterous  razor,  about  three  feet  long,  manufac- 
tured from  an  iron  hoop.  His  Godship  carried  an 
immense  speaking-trumpet  under  his  arm,  a  trident 
in  his  right  hand,  and  stepped  upon  the  deck  with  all 
the  dignity  his  assumed  position  warranted. 

"What  ship  is  this  ?"  he  said,  in  an  authoritative 
voice. 

"The  Confederate  Cruiser,  Shenandoah"  replied 
the  officer  of  the  deck,  touching  his  hat. 

"Are  there  any  of  my  subjects  on  board  who  have 
never  crossed  the  line  before?"  was  the  next 
puestion. 

"There  are  several,  I  believe." 

"Bring  them  before  me!  "  continued  his  Godship, 
and  thereupon  such  of  the  company  as  had  already 
passed  the  ordeal  dispersed  in  search  of  the  novices. 

We  found  them  stowed  away  in  every  imaginable 
place  of  concealment,  but  they  were  scented  out,  and 
dragged  before  the  Ocean  Deity,  where  they  were 
solemnly  lathered  from  the  slush-bucket,  and  shaved 
with  the  iron  hoop,  according  to  immemorial  usage. 

The  frolic  was  kept  up  till  a  late  hour,  and  an 
additional  zest  was  added  to  the  festivities  by  the  fact 
that  two  or  three  of  our  youngsters  actually  believed 
that  they  had  been  in  the  presence  of  the  veritable 
Neptune,  and  it  was  only  after  the  expiration  of  a 
considerable  time  that  they  discovered  that  they  had 
been  imposed  upon  by  some  of  their  own  shipmates. 


PART  V 
IN  CAMP  AND  ON  THE  MARCH 


57.    March! 

By  Bayard  Taylor  (1862) 

With  rushing  winds  and  gloomy  skies 
The  dark  and  stubborn  Winter  dies ; 
Far-off,  unseen,  Spring  faintly  cries, 
Bidding  her  earliest  child  arise : 

March ! 

By  streams  still  held  in  icy  snare, 
On  Southern  hill-sides,  melting  bare, 
O'er  fields  that  motley  colors  wear, 
That  summons  fills  the  changeful  air : 

March ! 

What  though  conflicting  seasons  make 
Thy  days  their  field,  they  woo  or  shake 
The  sleeping  lids  of  Life  awake, 
And  Hope  is  stronger  for  thy  sake : 

March  ! 

Then  from  thy  mountains,  ribbed  with  snow, 
Once  more  thy  rousing  bugle  blow, 
219 


Mr.  Taylor, 
author  of 
many  excel- 
lent books, 
was  later 
minister  to 
Germany. 


2  2  o  Camp  and  March  [No.  5s 

And  East  and  West,  and  to  and  fro, 
Proclaim  thy  coming  to  the  foe: 

March ! 

Say  to  the  picket,  chilled  and  numb, 
Say  to  the  camp's  impatient  hum, 
Say  to  the  trumpet  and  the  drum  : 
Lift  up  your  hearts,  I  come,  I  come ! 

March ! 

Cry  to  the  waiting  hosts  that  stray 
On  sandy  sea-sides  far  away, 
By  marshy  isle  and  gleaming  bay, 
Where  Southern  March  is  Northern  May : 

March ! 

Announce  thyself  with  welcome  noise, 
Where  Glory's  victor-eagles  poise 
Above  the  proud,  heroic  boys 
Of  Iowa  and  Illinois  : 

March ! 

Then  down  the  long  Potomac's  line 
Shout  like  a  storm  on  hills  of  pine, 
Till  ramrods  ring  and  bayonets  shine,  — 
"  Advance  !  the  Chieftain's  call  is  mine  : 

"March!" 


58.    Tent  Life 

By  John  D.  Billings  (1861) 

The  Sibley  Enter  with  me  into  a  Sibley  tent  which   is   not 

tent  is  shaped  stockaded#     If  it  js  coid  weather,  we  shall  find  the 

like  a  cone.  , 

cone-shaped  stove,  which  I  have  already  mentioned, 


no.  58]  Tent  Life  221 

standing  in  the  centre.  These  stoves  were  useless 
for  cooking  purposes,  and  the  men  were  likely  to 
burn  their  blankets  on  them  in  the  night,  so  that 
many  of  the  troops  utilized  them  by  building  a  small 
brick  or  stone  oven  below,  in  which  they  did  their 
cooking,  setting  the  stove  on  top  as  a  part  of  the  flue. 
The  length  of  pipe  furnished  by  the  government  was 
not  sufficient  to  reach  the  opening  at  the  top,  and  the 
result  was  that  unless  the  inmates  bought  more  to 
piece  it  out,  the  upper  part  of  such  tent  was  as  black 
and  sooty  as  a  chimney  flue. 

The  dozen  men  occupying  a  Sibley  tent  slept  with 
their  feet  toward  the  centre.  The  choice  place  to 
occupy  was  that  portion  opposite  the  door,  as  one 
was  not  then  in  the  way  of  passers  in  and  out,  al- 
though he  was  himself  more  or  less  of  a  nuisance  to 
others  when  he  came  in.  The  tent  was  most  crowded 
at  meal  times,  for,  owing  to  its  shape,  there  can  be 
no  standing  or  sitting  erect  except  about  the  centre. 
But  while  there  was  more  or  less  growling  at  acci- 
dents by  some,  there  was  much  forbearance  by  others, 
and,  aside  from  the  vexations  arising  from  the  consti- 
tutional blundering  of  some,  these  little  knots  were 
quite  family-like  and  sociable. 

The  manner  in  which  the  time  was  spent  in  tents 
varied  with  the  disposition  of  the  inmates.  It  was  not 
always  practicable  for  men  of  kindred  tastes  to  band 
themselves  under  the  same  canvas,  and  so  just  as  they 
differed  in  their  avocations  as  citizens,  they  differed  in 
their  social  life,  and  many  kinds  of  pastimes  went 
on  simultaneously.  Of  course,  all  wrote  letters 
more  or  less,  but  there  were  a  few  men  who  seemed  to 
spend  the  most  of  their  spare  time  in  this  occupation. 
Especially  was  this  so  in  the  earlier  part  of  a  man's 


222  Camp  and  March  [No.  5s 

hardtack  =     war  experience.     The  side  or  end  strip  of  a  hardtack 
hard  biscuit,    ^       j^y  on  ^Q  knees   constituted  the  writing-desk 

the  ordinary  .  .  ° 

substitute  for  on  which  this  operation  was  performed.     It  is  well 
bread.  remembered  that  in  the  early  months  of  the  war  silver 


WAR    ENVELOPES. 


money  disappeared,  as  it  commanded  a  premium,  so 
that,  change  being  scarce,  postage  stamps  were  used 
instead.  This  was  before  scrip  was  issued  by  the 
government  to  take  the  place  of  silver ;  and  although 
the  use  of  stamps  as  change  was  not  authorized  by 


no.  58]  Tent  Life  223 

the  national  government,  yet  everybody  took  them, 
and  the  soldiers  in  particular  just  about  to  leave  for 
the  war  carried  large  quantities  away  with  them  — 
not  all  in  the  best  of  condition.  This  could  hardly 
be  expected  when  they  had  been  through  so  many 
hands.  They  were  passed  about  in  little  envelopes, 
containing  twenty-five  and  fifty  cents  in  value. 

Many  an  old  soldier  can  recall  his  disgust  on  find- 
ing what  a  mess  his  stamps  were  in  either  from  rain, 
perspiration,  or  compression,  as  he  attempted,  after  a 
hot  march,  to  get  one  for  a  letter.  If  he  could  split 
o£f  one  from  a  welded  mass  of  perhaps  a  hundred  or 
more,  he  counted  himself  fortunate.  Of  course  they 
could  be  soaked  out  after  a  while,  but  he  would  need  to 
dry  them  on  a  griddle  afterward,  they  were  so  sticky. 
It  was  later  than  this  that  the  postmaster-general 
issued  an  order  allowing  soldiers  to  send  letters  with- 
out prepayment ;  but,  if  I  recollect  right,  it  was  neces- 
sary to  write  on  the  outside  "  Soldier's  Letter." 

Besides  letter-writing  the  various  games  of  cards 
were  freely  engaged  in.  Many  men  played  for 
money.  Cribbage  and  euchre  were  favorite  games. 
Reading  was  a  pastime  quite  generally  indulged  in, 
and  there  was  no  novel  so  dull,  trashy,  or  sensational 
as  not  to  find  some  one  so  bored  with  nothing  to  do 
that  he  would  wade  through  it. 

Chequers  was  a  popular  game  among  the  soldiers, 
backgammon  less  so,  and  it  was  only  rarely  that  the 
statelier  and  less  familiar  game  of  chess  was  to  be 
observed  on  the  board.  There  were  some  soldiers 
who  rarely  joined  in  any  games.  In  this  class  were 
to  be  found  the  illiterate  members  of  a  company.  Of 
course  they  did  not  read  or  write,  and  they  rarely 
played  cards.     They  were  usually  satisfied  to  lie  on 


224  Camp  and  March  [No.  5s 

their  blankets,  and  talk  with  one  another,  or  watch 
the  playing.  Yes,  they  did  have  one  pastime  —  the 
proverbial  soldier's  pastime  of  smoking.  A  pipe  was 
their  omnipresent  companion,  and  seemed  to  make 
up  to  them  in  sociability  for  whatsoever  they  lacked 
of  entertainment  in  other  directions. 

One  branch  of  business  which  was  carried  on  quite 
extensively  was  the  making  of  pipes  and  rings  as 
mementos  of  a  camp  or  battle-field.  The  pipes  were 
made  from  the  root  of  the  mountain  laurel  when  it 
could  be  had,  and  often  ornamented  with  the  badges 
of  the  various  corps,  either  in  relief  or  inlaid.  The 
rings  were  made  sometimes  of  dried  horn  or  hoof, 
very  often  of  bone,  and  some  were  fashioned  out  of 
large  gutta-percha  buttons  which  were  sent  from 
home. 

The  evenings  in  camp  were  less  occupied  in  game- 
playing,  I  should  say,  than  the  hours  off  duty  in  the 
daytime ;  partly,  perhaps,  because  the  tents  were 
rather  dimly  lighted,  and  partly  because  of  a  surfeit 
of  such  recreations  by  daylight.  But,  whatever  the 
cause,  I  think  old  soldiers  will  generally  agree  in  the 
statement  that  the  evenings  were  the  time  of  sociabil- 
ity and  reminiscence.  It  was  then  quite  a  visiting 
time  among  soldiers  of  the  same  organization.  It 
was  then  that  men  from  the  same  town  or  neighbor- 
hood got  together  and  exchanged  home  gossip. 
Each  one  would  produce  recent  letters  giving  inter- 
esting information  about  mutual  friends  or  acquaint- 
ances, telling  that  such  a  girl  or  old  schoolmate  was 
married ;  that  such  a  man  had  enlisted  in  such  a  regi- 
ment ;  that  another  was  wounded  and  at  home  on 
furlough ;  that  such  another  had  been  exempted  from 
the   forthcoming    draft,   because  he   had  lost  teeth ; 


no.  58]  Tent  Life  225 

that  yet  another  had  suddenly  gone  to  Canada  on 
important  business  —  which  was  a  favorite  refuge  for 
all  those  who  were  afraid  of  being  forced  into  the 
service. 

Then,  there  were  many  men  not  so  fortunate  as  to 
have  enlisted  with  acquaintances,  or  to  be  near  them 
in  the  army.  These  were  wont  to  lie  on  their  blank- 
ets, and  join  in  the  general  conversation,  or  exchange 
ante-war  experiences,  and  find  much  of  interest  in 
common  ;  but,  whatever  the  number  or  variety  of  the 
evening  diversions,  there  is  not  the  slightest  doubt 
that  home,  its  inmates,  and  surroundings  were  more 
thought  of  and  talked  of  then  than  in  all  the  rest  of 
the  twenty-four  hours. 

In  some  tents  vocal  or  instrumental  music  was  a 
feature  of  the  evening.  There  was  probably  not  a 
regiment  in  the  service  that  did  not  boast  at  least  one 
violinist,  one  banjoist,  and  a  bone  player  in  its  ranks 
—  not  to  mention  other  instruments  generally  found 
associated  with  these  —  and  one  or  all  of  them  could 
be  heard  in  operation,  either  inside  or  in  a  company 
street,  most  any  pleasant  evening.  However  unskil- 
ful the  artists,  they  were  sure  to  be  the  centre  of  an 
interested  audience.  The  usual  medley  of  comic 
songs  and  negro  melodies  comprised  the  greater  part 
of  the  entertainment,  and,  if  the  space  admitted,  a 
jig  or  clog  dance  was  stepped  out  on  a  hardtack  box 
or  other  crude  platform.  Sometimes  a  real  negro 
was  brought  in  to  enliven  the  occasion  by  patting  and 
dancing  "  Juba,"  or  singing  his  quaint  music.  There 
were  always  plenty  of  them  in  or  near  camp  ready  to 
fill  any  gap,  for  they  asked  nothing  better  than  to  be 
with  "  Massa  Linkum's  Sojers."  But  the  men  played 
tricks  of  all  descriptions  on  them,  descending  at  times 


226  Camp  and  March  [No.  59 

to  most  shameful  abuse  until  some  one  interfered. 
There  were  a  few  of  the  soldiers  who  were  not  satis- 
fied to  play  a  reasonable  practical  joke,  but  must  bear 
down  with  all  that  the  good-natured  Ethiopians  could 
stand,  and,  having  the  fullest  confidence  in  the  friend- 
ship of  the  soldiers,  these  poor  fellows  stood  much 
more  than  human  nature  should  be  called  to  endure 
without  a  murmur.  Of  course  they  were  on  the  look- 
out a  second  time. 


59.     "  Hardtack  and  Coffee  ' 

By  John  D.  Billings  (1861) 

A  false  impression  has  obtained  more  or  less  cur- 
rency both  with  regard  to  the  quantity  and  quality  of 
the  food  furnished  the  soldiers.  I  have  been  asked 
a  great  many  times  whether  I  always  got  enough  to 
eat  in  the  army,  and  have  surprised  inquirers  by  an- 
swering in  the  affirmative.  Now,  some  old  soldier 
may  say  who  sees  my  reply,  "Well,  you  were  lucky. 
I  didn't."  But  I  should  at  once  ask  him  to  tell  me 
for  how  long  a  time  his  regiment  was  ever  without 
food  of  some  kind.  Of  course,  I  am  not  now  refer- 
ring to  our  prisoners  of  war,  who  starved  by  the  thou- 
sands. And  I  should  be  very  much  surprised  if  he 
should  say  more  than  twenty-four  or  thirty  hours,  at 
the  outside.  I  would  grant  that  he  himself  might, 
perhaps  have  been  so  situated  as  to  be  deprived  of 
food  a  longer  time,  possibly  when  he  was  on  an  ex- 
posed picket  post,  or  serving  as  rear-guard  to  the 
army,  or  doing  something  which  separated  him  tem- 
porarily from  his  company ;  but  his  case  would  be 
the   exception  and  not  the  rule.     Sometimes,  when 


no.  59]     "Hardtack  and  Coffee''       227 


active  operations  were  in  progress,  the  army  was'  com- 
pelled to  wait  a  few  hours  for  its  trains  to  come  up, 
but  no  general  hardship  to  the  men  ever  ensued  on 
this  account.  Such  a  contingency  was  usually  known 
some  time  in  advance,  and  the  men  would  husband 
their  last  issue  of  rations,  or  perhaps,  if  the  country 
admitted,  would  make  additions  to  their  bill  of  fare  in 
the  shape  of  poultry  or  pork  ;  —  usually  it  was  the 
latter,  for  the  Southerners  do  not  pen  up  their  swine 
as  do  the  Northerners,  but  let  them  go  wandering 
about,  getting  their  living  much  of  the  time  as  best 
they  can. 

I  will  now  give  a  complete  list  of  the  rations  served  canned 
out  to  the  rank  and  file,  as  I  remember  them.     They  g°ods  were 
were  salt  pork,  fresh  beef,  salt  beef,  rarely  ham  or  known  in  the 
bacon,  hard  bread,  soft  bread,  potatoes,  an  occasional  war  time- 
onion,  flour,  beans,  split  pease,  rice,  dried  apples,  dried 
peaches,    desiccated    vegetables,    coffee,    tea,    sugar, 
molasses,  vinegar,   candles,  soap,  pepper,  and  salt. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  state  that  these  were  not 
all  served  out  at  one  time.  There  was  but  one  kind 
of  meat  served  at  once,  and  this,  to  use  a  Hibernian- 
ism,  was  usually  pork.  When  it  was  hard  bread,  it 
wasn't  soft  bread  or  flour,  and  when  it  was  pease  or 
beans  it  wasn't  rice. 

The  commissioned  officers  fared  better  in  camp 
than  the  enlisted  men.  Instead  of  drawing  rations 
after  the  manner  of  the  latter,  they  had  a  certain  cash 
allowance,  according  to  rank,  with  which  to  purchase 
supplies  from  the  Brigade  Commissary,  an  official 
whose  province  was  to  keep  stores  on  sale  for  their 
convenience. 

I  will  speak  of  the  rations  more  in  detail,  beginning 
with  the  hard  bread,  or,  to  use  the  name  by  which  it 


228  Camp  and  March  [No.  59 

was  known  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  Hardtack. 
What  was  hardtack  ?  It  was  a  plain  flour-and-water 
biscuit.  Two  which  I  have  in  my  possession  as  me- 
mentos measure  three  and  one-eighth  by  two  and 
seven-eighths  inches,  and  are  nearly  half  an  inch 
thick.  Although  these  biscuits  were  furnished  to 
organizations  by  weight,  they  were  dealt  out  to  the 


A   BREAD   OVEN. 


men  by  number,  nine  constituting  a  ration  in  some 
regiments,  and  ten  in  others ;  but  there  were  usually 
enough  for  those  who  wanted  more,  as  some  men 
would  not  draw  them.  While  hardtack  was  nutritious, 
yet  a  hungry  man  could  eat  his  ten  in  a  short  time 
and  still  be  hungry.  When  they  were  poor  and  fit 
objects  for  the  soldiers'  wrath,  it  was  due  to  one  of 
three  conditions  :  first,  they  may  have  been  so  hard 


no.  59]      "Hardtack  and  Coffee"      229 

that  they  could  not  be  bitten ;  it  then  required  a  very 
strong  blow  of  the  fist  to  break  them ;  the  second 
condition  was  when  they  were  mouldy  or  wet,  as 
sometimes  happened,  and  should  not  have  been  given 
to  the  soldiers  :  the  third  condition  was  when  from 
storage  they  had  become  infested  with  maggots. 

When  the  bread  was  mouldy  or  moist,  it  was  thrown 
away  and  made  good  at  the  next  drawing,  so  that  the 
men  were  not  the  losers ;  but  in  the  case  of  its  being 
infested  with  the  weevils,  they  had  to  stand  it  as  a 
rule  ;  but  hardtack  was  not  so  bad  an  article  of  food, 
even  when  traversed  by  insects,  as  may  be  supposed. 
Eaten  in  the  dark,  no  one  could  tell  the  difference 
between  it  and  hardtack  that  was  untenanted.  It 
was  no  uncommon  occurrence  for  a  man  to  find  the 
surface  of  his  pot  of  coffee  swimming  with  weevils^ 
after  breaking  up  hardtack  in  it,  which  had  come  out 
of  the  fragments  only  to  drown  ;  but  they  were  easily 
skimmed  off,  and  left  no  distinctive  flavor  behind. 

Having  gone  so  far,  I  know  the  reader  will  be 
interested  to  learn  of  the  styles  in  which  this  particu- 
lar article  was  served  up  by  the  soldiers.  Of  course, 
many  of  them  were  eaten  just  as  they  were  received 
—  hardtack  plain ;  then  I  have  already  spoken  of 
their  being  crumbed  in  coffee,  giving  the  "  hardtack 
and  coffee."  Probably  more  were  eaten  in  this  way 
than  in  any  other,  for  they  thus  frequently  furnished 
the  soldier  his  breakfast  and  supper.  But  there  were 
other  and  more  appetizing  ways  of  preparing  them. 
Many  of  the  soldiers,  partly  through  a  slight  taste 
for  the  business  but  more  from  force  of  circumstances, 
became  in  their  way  and  opinion  experts  in  the  art  of 
cooking  the  greatest  variety  of  dishes  with  the  smallest 
amount  of  capital. 


230  Camp  and  March  [No.  60 

Some  of  these  crumbed  them  in  soups  for  want  of 
other  thickening.  For  this  purpose  they  served  very 
well.  Some  crumbed  them  in  cold  water,  then  fried 
the  crumbs  in  the  juice  and  fat  of  meat.  A  dish  akin 
to  this  one  which  was  said  to  make  the  hair  curl,  and 
certainly  was  indigestible  enough  to  satisfy  the  crav- 
ings of  the  most  ambitious  dyspeptic,  was  prepared 
by  soaking  hardtack  in  cold  water,  then  frying  them 
brown  in  pork  fat,  salting  to  taste.  Another  name 
for  this  dish  was  skillygalee.  Some  liked  them  toasted, 
either  to  crumb  in  coffee,  or  if  a  sutler  was  at  hand  whom 
they  could  patronize,  to  butter.  The  toasting  gener- 
ally took  place  from  the  end  of  a  split  stick. 

Then  they  worked  into  milk-toast  made  of  condensed 
milk  at  seventy-five  cents  a  can ;  but  only  a  recruit 
with  a  big  bounty,  or  an  old  vet,  the  child  of  wealthy 
parents,  or  a  reenlisted  man  did  much  in  that  way. 
A  few  who  succeeded  by  hook  or  by  crook  in  saving 
up  a  portion  of  their  sugar  ration  spread  it  upon  hard- 
tack. And  so  in  various  ways  the  ingenuity  of  the 
men  was  taxed  to  make  this  plainest  and  commonest 
yet  most  serviceable  of  army  food  to  do  duty  in  every 
conceivable  combination. 


60.    On  the  March  » 

By  Carlton  McCarthy  (1861) 

Orders  to  move  !  Where  ?  when  ?  what  for  ?  — 
are  the  eager  questions  of  the  men  as  they  begin  their 
preparationsto  march.  Generally  nobody  can  answer, 
and  the  journey  is  commenced  in  utter  ignorance  of 
where  it  is  to  end.     But  shrewd  guesses  are  made, 


no.  60]  On  the  March  231 

and  scraps  of  information  will  be  picked  up  on  the 
way.  The  main  thought  must  be  to  get  ready  to  move. 
The  orderly  sergeant  is  shouting  "  Fall  in  !  "  and 
there  is  no  time  to  lose.  The  probability  is  that  be- 
fore you  get  your  blanket  rolled  up,  find  your  frying- 
pan,  haversack,  axe,  etc.,  and  fall  in,  the  roll-call  will 
be  over,  and  some  extra  duty  provided. 

No  wonder  there  is  bustle  in  the  camp.  Rapid  de- 
cisions are  to  be  madebetween  the  various  conveniences 
which  have  accumulated,  for  some  must  be  left.  One 
fellow  picks  up  the  skillet,  holds  it  awhile,  mentally 
determining  how  much  it  weighs,  and  what  will  be  the 
weight  of  it  after  carrying  it  five  miles,  and  reluctantly, 
with  a  half-ashamed,  sly  look  drops  it  and  takes  his 
place  in  the  ranks.  Another  having  added  to  his 
store  of  blankets  too  freely,  now  has  to  decide  which 
of  the  two  or  three  he  will  leave.  The  old  water- 
bucket  looks  large  and  heavy,  but  one  stout-hearted, 
strong-armed  man  has  taken  it  affectionately  to  his  care. 

This  is  the  time  to  say  farewell  to  the  bread"  tray, 
farewell  to  the  little  piles  of  clean  straw  laid  between 
two  logs,  where  it  was  so  easy  to  sleep  ;  farewell  to 
those  piles  of  wood,  cut  with  so  much  labor ;  farewell 
to  the  girls  in  the  neighborhood  ;  farewell  to  the  spring, 
farewell  to  our  tree  and  our  fire,  good-by  to  the  fellows 
who  are  not  going,  and  a  general  good-by  to  the  very 
hills  and  valleys. 

Soldiers  commonly  threw  away  the  most  valuable 
articles  they  possessed.  Blankets,  overcoats,  shoes, 
bread  and  meat,  —  all  gave  way  to  the  necessities  of 
the  march  ;  and  what  one  man  threw  away  would  fre- 
quently be  the  very  article  that  another  wanted  and 
would  immediately  pick  up ;  so  there  was  not  much 
lost  after  all. 


232  Camp  and  March  [No.  60 

The  first  hour  or  so  of  the  march  was  generally 
quite  orderly,  the  men  preserving  their  places  in  ranks 
and  marching  in  solid  columns ;  but  soon  some  lively 
fellow  whistles  an  air,  somebody  else  starts  a  song, 
the  whole  column  breaks  out  with  roars  of  laughter ; 
route  step  takes  the  place  of  order,  and  the  jolly  sing- 
ing, laughing,  talking,  and  joking  that  follows  no  one 
could  describe. 

Troops  on  the  march  were  generally  so  cheerful 
and  gay  that  an  outsider,  looking  on  them  as  they 
marched,  would  hardly  imagine  how  they  suffered.  In 
summer  time,  the  dust,  combined  with  the  heat,  caused 
great  suffering.  The  nostrils  of  the  men,  filled  with 
dust,  became  dry  and  feverish,  and  even  the  throat 
did  not  escape.  The  grit  was  felt  between  the  teeth, 
and  the  eyes  were  rendered  almost  useless.  There 
was  dust  in  eyes,  mouth,  ears  and  hair.  The  shoes 
were  full  of  sand,  and  the  dust  penetrated  the  clothes. 
The  heat  was  at  times  terrific,  but  the  men  became 
greatly  accustomed  to  it,  and  endured  it  with  wonder- 
ful ease.  Their  heavy  woolen  clothes  were  a  great 
annoyance  ;  tough  linen  or  cotton  clothes  would  have 
been  a  great  relief ;  indeed,  there  are  many  objections 
to  woolen  clothing  for  soldiers,  even  in  winter. 

If  the  dust  and  heat  were  not  on  hand  to  annoy, 
their  very  able  substitutes  were  :  mud,  cold,  rain,  snow, 
hail  and  wind  took  their  places.  Rain  was  the  great- 
est discomfort  a  soldier  could  have  ;  it  was  more  un- 
comfortable than  the  severest  cold  with  clear  weather. 
Wet  clothes,  shoes  and  blankets  ;  wet  meat  and  bread  ; 
wet  feet  and  wet  ground ;  wet  wood  to  burn,  or 
rather  not  to  burn ;  wet  arms  and  ammunition ;  wet 
ground  to  sleep  on,  mud  to  wade  through,  swollen 
creeks  to  ford,  muddy  springs,  and  a  thousand  other 


no.  60]  On  the  March  233 

discomforts  attended  the  rain.  There  was  no  comfort 
on  a  rainy  day  or  night  except  in  bed,  —  that  is,  under 
your  blanket  and  oil-cloth.  Cold  winds,  blowing  the 
rain  in  the  faces  of  the  men,  increased  the  discomfort. 
Mud  was  often  so  deep  as  to  submerge  the  horses  and 
mules,  and  at  times  it  was  necessary  for  one  man  or 
more  to  extricate  another  from  the  mud  holes  in  the 
road. 

Occasionally,  when  the  column  extended  for  a  mile  or 
more,  and  the  road  was  one  dense  moving  mass  of  men, 
a  cheer  would  be  heard  away  ahead — increasing  in 
volume  as  it  approached,  until  there  was  one  univer- 
sal shout.  Then  some  favorite  general  officer  dashing 
by,  followed  by  his  staff,  would  explain  the  cause. 
At  other  times,  the  same  cheering  and  enthusiasm 
would  result  from  the  passage  down  the  column  of 
some  obscure  and  despised  officer,  who  knew  it  was 
all  a  joke,  and  looked  mean  and  sheepish  accordingly. 
But  no  man  could  produce  more  prolonged  or  hearty 
cheers  than  the  old  hare  which  jumped  the  fence  and 
invited  the  column  to  a  chase  ;  and  often  it  was  said, 
when  the  rolling  shout  arose :  "  There  goes  old  General 
Lee  or  a  Molly  Cotton  Tail  !  " 

The  most  refreshing  incidents  of  the  march  occurred 
when  the  column  entered  some  clean  and  cosy  village 
where  the  people  loved  the  troops.  Matron  and 
maid  vied  with  each  other  in  their  efforts  to  express 
their  devotion  to  the  defenders  of  their  cause.  Re- 
membering with  tearful  eyes  the  absent  soldier,  brother 
or  husband,  they  yet  smiled  through  their  tears,  and 
with  hearts  and  voices  welcomed  the  coming  of  the 
road-stained  troops.  Their  scanty  larders  poured  out 
the  last  morsel,  and  their  bravest  words  were  spoken 
as  the  column  moved  by. 


234  Camp  and  March  [No.  62 

After  all  the  march  had  more  pleasure  than  pain. 
Chosen  friends  walked  and  talked  and  smoked  to- 
gether ;  the  hills  and  valleys  made  themselves  a  pan- 
orama for  the  feasting  of  the  soldier's  eyes  ;  a  turnip 
path  here  and  an  onion  patch  there  invited  him  to  occa- 
sional refreshment ;  and  it  was  sweet  to  think  that  camp 
was  near  at  hand,  and  rest,  and  the  journey  almost 
ended. 


61.    The    Chevalier     of     the    Lost 
Cause 

By  George  Cary  Eggleston    (1861) 

See  note  of  In  the  great  dining-hall  of  the  Briars,  an  old-time 

i'n^No  StUart  mansi°n  m  ^e  Shenandoah  Valley,  the  residence  of 

above.  Mr.  John  Esten  Cooke,  there  hangs  a  portrait  of  a 

broad-shouldered  cavalier,  and  beneath  is  written,  in 

the  hand  of  the  cavalier  himself, 

"  Yours  to  count  on, 

J.  E.  B.  Stuart," 

an  autograph  sentiment  which  seems  to  me  a  very 
perfect  one  in  its  way.  There  was  no  point  in  Stuart's 
character  more  strongly  marked  than  the  one  here 
hinted  at.  He  was  yours  to  count  on  always  :  your 
friend  if  possible,  your  enemy  if  you  would  have  it  so, 
but  your  friend  or  your  enemy  "  to  count  on,"  in  any 
case.  A  franker,  more  transparent  nature,  it  is  im- 
possible to  conceive.  What  he  was  he  professed  to 
be.  That  which  he  thought,  he  said,  and  his  habit  of 
thinking  as  much  good  as  he  could  of  those  about 
him  served  to  make  his  frankness  of  speech  a  great 
friend-winner. 


236  Camp  and  March  [No.  61 

I  saw  him  for  the  first  time  when  he  was  a  colonel, 
in  command  of  the  little  squadron  of  horsemen  known 
as  the  first  regiment  of  Virginia  cavalry. 

My  company  arrived  at  the  camp  about  noon,  after 
a  march  of  three  or  four  days,  having  travelled 
twenty  miles  that  morning.  Stuart,  whom  we  en- 
countered as  we  entered  the  camp,  assigned  us  our 
position,  and  ordered  our  tents  pitched.  Our  captain, 
who  was  even  worse  disciplined  than  we  were,  seeing 
a  much  more  comfortable  camping-place  than  the 
muddy  one  assigned  to  us,  and  being  a  comfort-loving 
gentleman,  proceeded  to  lay  out  a  model  camp  at  a 
distance  of  fifty  yards  from  the  spot  indicated.  It 
was  not  long  before  the  colonel  particularly  wished 
to  consult  with  that  captain,  and  after  the  consulta- 
tion the  volunteer  officer  was  firmly  convinced  that  all 
West  Point  graduates  were  martinets,  with  no  knowl- 
edge whatever  of  the  courtesies  due  from  one  gentle- 
man to  another. 

We  were  weary  after  our  long  journey,  and  dis- 
posed to  welcome  the  prospect  of  rest  which  our 
arrival  in  the  camp  held  out.  But  resting,  as  we 
soon  learned,  had  small  place  in  our  colonel's  tactics. 
We  had  been  in  camp  perhaps  an  hour,  when  an 
order  came  directing  that  the  company  be  divided 
into  three  parts,  each  under  command  of  a  lieutenant, 
and  that  these  report  immediately  for  duty.  Report- 
ing, we  were  directed  to  scout  through  the  country 
around  Martinsburg,  going  as  near  the  town  as  pos- 
sible, and  to  give  battle  to  any  cavalry  force  we  might 
meet.  Here  was  a  pretty  lookout,  certainly !  Our 
officers  knew  not  one  inch  of  the  country,  and  might 
fall  into  all  sorts  of  traps  and  ambuscades ;  and  what 
if  we  should  meet  a  cavalry  force  greatly  superior  to 


no.  61]  Jeb  Stuart  237 

our  own  ?  This  West  Point  colonel  was  rapidly 
forfeiting  our  good  opinion.  Our  lieutenants  were 
brave  fellows,  however,  and  they  led  us  boldly  if 
ignorantly,  almost  up  to  the  very  gates  of  the  town 
occupied  by  the  enemy.  We  saw  some  cavalry  but 
met  none,  their  orders  not  being  so  peremptorily  bel- 
ligerent, perhaps,  as  ours  were  ;  wherefore  they  gave 
us  no  chance  to  fight  them.  The  next  morning  our 
unreasonable  colonel  again  ordered  us  to  mount,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  there  were  companies  in  the 
camp  which  had  done  nothing  at  all  the  day  before. 
This  time  he  led  us  himself,  taking  pains  to  get  us  as 
nearly  as  possible  surrounded  by  infantry,  and  then 
laughingly  telling  us  that  our  chance  for  getting  out 
of  the  difficulty,  except  by  cutting  our  way  through, 
was  an  exceedingly  small  one.  I  think  we  began 
about  this  time  to  suspect  that  we  were  learning 
something,  and  that  this  reckless  colonel  was  trying 
to  teach  us.  But  that  he  was  a  hare-brained  fellow, 
lacking  the  caution  belonging  to  a  commander,  we 
were  unanimously  agreed.  He  led  us  out  of  the  place 
at  a  rapid  gait,  before  the  one  gap  in  the  enemy's 
lines  could  be  closed,  and  then  jauntily  led  us  into 
one  or  two  other  traps,  before  taking  us  back  to  camp. 
But  it  was  not  until  General  Patterson  began  his 
feint  against  Winchester  that  our  colonel  had  full 
opportunity  to  give  us  his  field  lectures.  When  the 
advance  began,  and  our  pickets  were  driven  in,  the 
most  natural  thing  to  do,  in  our  view  of  the  situation, 
was  to  fall  back  upon  our  infantry  supports  at  Win- 
chester, and  I  remember  hearing  various  expressions 
of  doubt  as  to  the  colonel's  sanity  when,  instead  of 
falling  back,  he  marched  his  handful  of  men  right  up 
to  the  advancing  lines,  and  ordered  us  to  dismount. 


238  Camp  and  March  [No.  61 

The  Federal  skirmish  line  was  coming  toward  us  at  a 
double-quick,  and  we  were  set  going  toward  it  at  a 
like  rate  of  speed,  leaving  our  horses  hundreds  of 
yards  to  the  rear.  We  could  see  that  the  skirmishers 
alone  outnumbered  us  three  or  four  times,  and  it 
really  seemed  that  our  colonel  meant  to  sacrifice  his 
command  deliberately.  He  waited  until  the  infantry 
was  within  about  two  hundred  yards  of  us,  we  being 
in  the  edge  of  a  little  grove,  and  they  on  the  other 
side  of  an  open  field.  Then  Stuart  cried  out,  "  Back- 
wards —  march  !  steady,  men,  —  keep  your  faces  to 
the  enemy!"  and  we  marched  in  that  way  through 
the  timber,  delivering  our  shot-gun  fire  slowly  as  we 
fell  back  toward  our  horses.  Then  mounting,  with 
the  skirmishers  almost  upon  us,  we  retreated,  not 
hurriedly,  but  at  a  slow  trot,  which  the  colonel  would 
on  no  account  permit  us  to  change  into  a  gallop. 
Taking  us  out  into  the  main  road  he  halted  us  in 
column,  with  our  backs  to  the  enemy. 

"Attention!"  he  cried.  "Now  I  want  to  talk  to 
you  men.  You  are  brave  fellows,  and  patriotic  ones 
too,  but  you  are  ignorant  of  this  kind  of  work,  and  I 
am  teaching  you.  I  want  you  to  observe  that  a  good 
man  on  a  good  horse  can  never  be  caught.  Another 
thing :  cavalry  can  trot  away  from  anything,  and  a 
gallop  is  a  gait  unbecoming  a  soldier,  unless  he  is 
going  toward  the  enemy.  Remember  that.  We 
gallop  toward  the  enemy,  and  trot  away,  always. 
Steady  now  !  don't  break  ranks  !  " 

And  as  the  words  left  his  lips  a  shell  from  a  battery 
half  a  mile  to  the  rear  hissed  over  our  heads. 

"  There,"  he  resumed.  "  I've  been  waiting  for  that 
and  watching  those  fellows.  I  knew  they'd  shoot  too 
high,  and  I  wanted  you  to  learn  how  shells  sound." 


no.  61]  Jeb  Stuart  239 

We  spent  the  next  day  or  two  literally  within  the 
Federal  lines.  We  were  shelled,  skirmished  with, 
charged,  and  surrounded  scores  of  times,  until  we 
learned  to  hold  in  high  regard  our  colonel's  masterly 
skill  in  getting  into  and  out  of  perilous  positions.  He 
seemed  to  blunder  into  them  in  sheer  recklessness, 
but  in  getting  out  he  showed  us  the  quality  of  his 
genius;  and  before  we  reached  Manassas  we  had 
learned,  among  other  things,  to  entertain  a  feeling 
closely  akin  to  worship  for  our  brilliant  and  daring 
leader.  We  had  begun  to  understand,  too,  how  much 
force  he  meant  to  give  to  his  favorite  dictum  that  the 
cavalry  is  the  eye  of  the  army. 

I  had  been  detailed  to  do  some  clerical  work  at  his 
headquarters,  and,  having  finished  the  task  assigned 
me,  was  waiting  in  the  piazza  of  the  house  he  oc- 
cupied, for  somebody  to  give  me  further  orders,  when 
Stuart  came  out. 

"  Is  that  your  horse?"  he  asked,  going  up  to  the 
animal  and  examining  him  minutely. 

I  replied  that  he  was,  and  upon  being  questioned 
further  informed  him  that  I  did  not  wish  to  sell  my 
steed.     Turning  to  me  suddenly,  he  said: 

"  Let's  slip  off  on  a  scout,  then ;  I'll  ride  your 
horse  and  you  can  ride  mine.  I  want  to  try  your 
beast's  paces ;  "  and  mounting,  we  galloped  away. 
Where  or  how  far  he  intended  to  go  I  did  not  know. 
He  was  enamoured  of  my  horse,  and  rode,  I  suppose, 
for  the  pleasure  of  riding  an  animal  which  pleased 
him.  We  passed  outside  our  picket  line,  and  then, 
keeping  in  the  woods,  rode  within  that  of  the  Union 
army.  Wandering  about  in  a  purposeless  way,  we 
got  a  near  view  of  some  of  the  Federal  camps,  and 
finally  finding  ourselves  objects    of  attention  on  the 


240  Camp  and  March  [No.  61 

part  of  some  well-mounted  cavalry  in  blue  uniforms, 
we  rode  rapidly  down  a  road  toward  our  own  lines, 
our  pursuers  riding  quite  as  rapidly  immediately  be- 
hind us. 

"  General,"  I  cried  presently,  "  there  is  a  Federal 
picket  post  on  the  road  just  ahead  of  us.  Had  we 
not  better  oblique  into  the  woods  ?  " 

"  Oh  no.  They  won't  expect  us  from  this  direc- 
tion, and  we  can  ride  over  them  before  they  make  up 
their  minds  who  we  are." 

Three  minutes  later  we  rode  at  full  speed  through 
the  corporal's  guard  on  picket,  and  were  a  hundred 
yards  or  more  away  before  they  could  level  a  gun  at 
us.  Then  half  a  dozen  bullets  whistled  about  our 
ears,  but  the  cavalier  paid  no  attention  to  them. 

"  Did  you  ever  time  this  horse  for  a  half-mile  ? " 
was  all  he  had  to  say. 

It  was  on  the  day  of  my  ride  with  him  that  I  heard 
him  express  his  views  of  the  war  and  his  singular 
aspiration  for  himself.  It  was  almost  immediately 
after  General  McClellan  assumed  command  of  the 
army  of  the  Potomac,  and  while  we  were  rather 
eagerly  expecting  him  to  attack  our  strongly  fortified 
position  at  Centreville.  Stuart  was  talking  with  some 
members  of  his  staff,  with  whom  he  had  been  wres- 
tling a  minute  before.  He  said  something  about  what 
they  could  do  by  way  of  amusement  when  they 
should  go  into  winter-quarters. 

"That  is  to  say,"  he  continued,  "if  George  B. 
McClellan  ever  allows  us  to  go  into  winter-quarters 
at  all." 

11  Why,  general  ?  Do  you  think  he  will  advance 
before  spring  ?  "  asked  one  of  the  officers. 

"Not   against    Centreville,"    replied   the    general. 


no.  62]  Old  Heart  of  Oak  241 

"  He  has  too  much  sense  for  that,  and  I  think  he 
knows  the  shortest  road  to  Richmond,  too.  If  I  am 
not  greatly  mistaken,  we  shall  hear  of  him  presently 
on  his  way  up  the  James  River." 

In  this  prediction,  as  the  reader  knows,  he  was  right. 
The  conversation  then  passed  to  the  question  of 
results. 

"  I  regard  it  as  a  foregone  conclusion,"  said  Stuart, 
"  that  we  shall  ultimately  whip  the  Yankees.  We  are 
bound  to  believe  that,  anyhow ;  but  the  war  is  going 
to  be  a  long  and  terrible  one,  first.  We've  only  just 
begun  it,  and  very  few  of  us  will  see  the  end.  All  I 
ask  of  fate  is  that  I  may  be  killed  leading  a  cavalry 
charge." 

The  remark  was  not  a  boastful  or  seemingly  insin- 
cere one.  It  was  made  quietly,  cheerfully,  almost 
eagerly,  and  it  impressed  me  at  the  time  with  the 
feeling  that  the  man's  idea  of  happiness  was  what 
the  French  call  glory,  and  that  in  his  eyes  there  was 
no  glory  like  that  of  dying  in  one  of  the  tremendous 
onsets  which  he  knew  so  well  how  to  make.  His 
wish  was  granted,  as  we  know.  He  received  his 
death-wound  at  the  head  of  his  troopers. 


62.    Old  Heart  of  Oak1 

By  William  T.  Meredith  (1864) 

t^.  t-.  Written  by  a 

Farragut,  Farragut,  young  officer 

Old  Heart  of  Oak,  who  was  on 

-i-^      •  t^  tt.  board  the 

Daring  Dave  Farragut,  Hartford* 

Thunderbolt  stroke,  the  battle  of 

Mobile  Bay, 

1  Reprinted  with  the  permission  of  the  Century  Company.  August  5th. 
R 


242  Camp  and  March  [No.  62 

Watches  the  hoary  mist 

Lift  from  the  bay, 
Till  his  flag,  glory-kissed, 

Greets  the  young  day. 

Far,  by  gray  Morgan's  walls, 

Looms  the  black  fleet. 
Hark,  deck  to  rampart  calls 

With  the  drums'  beat ! 
Buoy  your  chains  overboard, 

While  the  steam  hums  ; 
Men  !  to  the  battlement, 

Farragut  comes. 

See,  as  the  hurricane 

Hurtles  in  wrath 
Squadrons  of  clouds  amain 

Back  from  its  path  ! 
Back  'to  the  parapet, 

To  the  guns'  lips, 
Thunderbolt  Farragut 

Hurls  the  black  ships. 

Now  through  the  battle's  roar 

Clear  the  boy  sings, 
"  By  the  mark  fathoms  four," 

While  his  lead  swings. 
Steady  the  wheelmen  five 

"  Nor'  by  East  keep  her," 
"  Steady,"  but  two  alive  ; 

How  the  shells  sweep  her ! 

Lashed  to  the  mast  that  sways 
Over  red  decks, 


no.  e3]        Escape  from  Prison  243 

Over  the  flame  that  plays 

Round  the  torn  wrecks, 
Over  the  dying  lips 

Framed  for  a  cheer, 
Farragut  leads  his  ships, 

Guides  the  line  clear. 

On  by  heights  battle-browed, 

While  the  spars  quiver ; 
Onward  still  flames  the  cloud 

Where  the  hulks  shiver. 
See,  yon  fort's  star  is  set, 

Storm  and  fire  past. 
Cheer  him,  lads —  Farragut, 

Lashed  to  the  mast ! 

Oh  !  while  Atlantic's  breast 

Bears  a  white  sail, 
While  the  Gulf's  towering  crest 

Tops  a  green  vale  ; 
Men  thy  bold  deeds  shall  tell, 

Old  Heart  of  Oak, 
Daring  Dave  Farragut, 

Thunderbolt  stroke ! 


63.    An  Escape  from  Prison 

The  possibility  of  escape  was  a  subject  of  thought  The  prison 
and  conversation  among  us  quite  early  in  our  impris-  ^b^a  South 
onment.     After  Henry's   departure,   I   made   up  my   Carolina, 
mind  to  try  the  experiment  as  soon  as  matters  seemed 
ripe  for  it.     The  reports  of  exchange  just  at  hand, 
which  coaxed  us  into  hope  from  week  to  week,  for 


244  Camp  and  March  [No.  e3 

four  months,  no  longer  tantalized  us.  I  was  exceed- 
ingly restless  and  impatient.  There  was  scarcely  a 
day  of  which  I  did  not  spend  more  than  one  hour  in 
thinking  of  the  possibilities  and  probabilities  of  the 
attempt ;  and  many  a  night  did  my  bedfellow  and  I 
lie  awake  after  others  had  gone  to  sleep,  and  discuss 
the  merits  of  various  plans.  I  used  to  pace  our 
empty  front-room,  and  think  of  the  sluggish  wretch- 
edness of  our  life  here,  and  the  joy  of  freedom  gained 
by  our  own  efforts,  —  the  same  round  of  thought 
over  and  over  again,  —  until  I  was  half  wild  with  the 
sense  of  restraint  and  of  suffocation. 

Our  plan,  as  finally  agreed  upon,  was  simple. 
Twice  during  the  day  we  were  allowed  half  an  hour 
in  the  yard  for  exercise ;  being  counted  when  we 
came  in,  or  soon  after,  to  assure  the  sergeant  of  the 
guard  that  we  were  all  present.  In  this  yard  was  a 
small  brick  building  consisting  of  two  rooms  used  as 
kitchens,  —  one  by  ourselves,  the  other  by  the  naval 
officers.  The  latter  of  these  had  a  window  opening 
into  a  woodshed ;  from  which,  part  of  the  side  being 
torn  away,  there  was  access  to  a  narrow  space  be- 
tween another  small  building  and  the  jail-fence.  Our 
intention  was  to  enter  this  kitchen  during  our  half- 
hour  of  liberty,  as  we  were  frequently  in  the  habit  of 
doing ;  to  talk  with  those  who  were  on  duty  for  the 
day ;  remain  there  after  the  cooks  had  gone  in,  leav- 
ing lay-figures  to  be  counted  in  our  stead  by  the 
sergeant;  thence  through  the  woodshed,  and,  by 
removing  a  board  of  the  high  fence  already  loosened 
for  the  purpose,  into  the  adjoining  premises,  from 
which  we  could  easily  gain  the  street.  The  latter 
part  of  the  movement  —  all  of  it,  indeed,  except  the 
entrance  into  the  kitchen,  where  we  were  to  remain 


no.  e3]         Escape  from  Prison  245 

quiet  for  several  hours  —  was  to  be  executed  after 
dark. 

The  street  once  gained,  my  comrade  and  I  intended 
to  take  the  railroad  running  northward  along  the  banks 
of  the  Broad  River,  follow  it  during  the  first  night, 
while  our  escape  was  still  undiscovered,  then  strike  as 
direct  a  course  as  possible  for  the  North-Carolina 
line.  Through  the  latter  State,  we  hoped  to  make 
our  way  westward  across  the  mountains,  where  we 
should  find  friends  as  well  as  enemies,  ultimately 
reaching  Burnside's  lines  in  East  Tennessee.  The 
distance  to  be  passed  over  we  estimated  at  about 
three  hundred  miles  ;  the  time  which  it  would  occupy, 
at  from  twenty  to  thirty  days.  The  difficulties  in  our 
way  were  very  great,  the  chances  for  and  against  us 
we  considered  certainly  no  better  than  equal. 

Our  preparations  for  such  a  trip  were,  of  necessity, 
few.  We  manufactured  a  couple  of  stout  cloth  hav- 
ersacks, in  which,  though  hardly  as  large  as  the  army 
pattern,  we  were  to  carry  ten  days'  provision,  —  each 
of  us  two  dozen  hard-boiled  eggs,  and  about  six 
quarts  of  corn  parched  and  ground.  Besides  a  rubber 
blanket  to  each,  we  concluded,  for  the  sake  of  light 
traveling,  to  carry  but  a  single  woolen  one.  This,  with 
one  or  two  other  articles  of  some  bulk,  we  placed  in 
a  wash-tub  and  covered  with  soiled  clothes,  in  order 
to  convey  them,  without  exciting  suspicion,  to  the 
kitchen.  My  baggage,  for  the  journey,  besides  what 
has  already  been  referred  to,  consisted  of  an  extra 
pair  of  cotton  socks,  a  comb,  toothbrush,  and  piece 
of  soap,  needle  and  thread,  a  piece  of  stout  cloth,  a 
flask  about  one-third  full  of  excellent  brandy,  a  piece 
of  lard,  a  paper  of  salt,  pencil  and  paper,  and  my 
home-photographs. 


246  Camp  and  March  [No.  e3 

Two  dummies,  or  lay-figures,  were  to  be  made. 
The  first  was  a  mere  pile  of  blankets;  but  its  position 
in  the  second  story  of  our  double-tier  bedstead  pro- 
tected it  from  close  observation.  For  the  second, 
I  borrowed  a  pair  of  pants,  and  for  one  foot  found  a 
cast-off  shoe.  The  upper  part  of  the  figure  was 
covered  with  a  blanket ;  and  the  face,  with  a  silk 
handkerchief  :  attitude  was  carefully  attended  to.  I 
flattered  myself  that  the  man  was  enough  of  a  man 
for  pretty  sharp  eyes,  and  was  satisfied  when  Lieu- 
tenant Bliss  came  in,  and  unsuspectingly  addressed 
him  by  the  name  of  the  officer  whose  pants  he  wore. 

After  the  last  thing  was  done  which  could  be  done 
in  the  way  of  preparation,  time  passed  very  slowly. 
I  was  impatiently  nervous,  and  spent  the  hours  in 
pacing  the  rooms  and  watching  the  sluggish  clock- 
hands.  The  excitement  of  anticipation  was  hardly 
less  than  that  which  I*  have  felt  before  an  expected 
fight.     The  personal  stake  at  issue  was  little  different. 

My  comrade  in  this  venturesome  move  was  Captain 
Chamberlain,  of  the  7th  Connecticut.  He  was  well- 
informed,  an  ex-editor,  plucky,  and  of  excellent  phy- 
sique, well  calculated  to  endure  hardship,  and  a  good 
swimmer.  He  was  that  day  on  duty  in  the  kitchen. 
At  four  p.m.,  we  went  out  as  usual  for  exercise.  En- 
tering the  kitchen  a  few  minutes  before  our  half-hour 
had  expired,  I  concealed  myself  in  a  snug  corner, 
before  which  one  or  two  towels,  a  huge  tin  boiler,  and 
other  convenient  articles,  were  so  disposed  as  to 
render  the  shelter  complete  should  so  unusual  an 
event  occur  as  a  visit  from  the  guard  after  that  hour. 

It  was  but  a  few  minutes  before  the  corporal,  act- 
ing for  the  day  as  sergeant,  was  seen  to  enter  the 
room  to  which  all  but  the  cooks  and  myself  had  re- 


no.  e3]         Escape  from  Prison  247 

turned.  Our  confidence  that  all  would  go  well  was 
based  in  great  measure  upon  his  stupidity ;  and  it 
was  with  greatly  increased  apprehensions  that  I 
heard  that  he  was  accompanied  to-night  by  Captain 
Senn. 

Rather  than  pass  the  ordeal  of  a  visit  from  him, 
had  we  anticipated  it,  we  should  probably  have  de- 
ferred our  attempt  another  day,  even  at  the  risk  of 
losing  our  chance  altogether.  He  opened  the  door 
and  went  in.  I  waited  anxiously  to  hear  what  would 
follow.  He  seemed  to  stay  longer  than  usual.  Was 
there  anything  wrong?  Suspense  lengthened  the 
minutes ;  but  it  was  of  no  use  to  question  those  who 
could  see,  while  the  door  remained  closed,  no  more 
than  myself.  Presently  I  was  told  that  the  door  was 
open  ;  he  was  coming  out ;  there  seemed  to  be  no 
alarm ;  he  was  stepping  briskly  toward  the  yard. 
We  breathed  more  freely.  A  moment  more,  and  he 
was  going  back,  evidently  dissatisfied  with  something. 
He  re-entered  the  room.  "  It's  all  up,"  said  my  reporter. 
I  thought  myself  that  there  was  little  doubt  of  it,  and 
prepared,  the  moment  any  sign  of  alarm  appeared,  to 
come  from  my  retreat,  which  I  preferred  to  leave  volun- 
tarily rather  than  with  the  assistance  of  a  file  of  men. 
Too  bad  to  be  caught  at  the  very  outset,  without  so 
much  as  a  whiff  of  the  air  of  freedom  to  compensate 
us  for  the  results  of  detection  !  But  no:  Captain  Senn 
comes  quietly  out,  walks  leisurely,  through  the  hall ; 
and  his  pipe  is  lit,  —  best  evidence  in  the  world  that 
all  is  tranquil,  his  mind  undisturbed  by  anything 
startling  or  unexpected. 

But  it  was  too  soon  to  exult :  congratulations  were 
cut  short  by  sudden  silence  on  the  part  of  my  friends. 
I  listened :  it  was  broken  by  a  step  on  the  threshold, 


248  Camp  and  March  [n*  e3 

and  the  voice  of  the  captain  close  beside  me.  I 
didn't  hold  my  breath  according  to  the  established 
precedent  in  all  such  cases ;  but  I  sat  for  a  little  while 
as  still  as  I  did  the  first  time  that  ever  my  daguerreo- 
type was  taken ;  then,  cautiously  moving  my  head,  I 
caught  a  view  of  the  visitor  as  he  stood  hardly  more 
than  at  arm's-length  from  me.  He  was  merely  on  a 
tour  of  inspection ;  asked  a  few  unimportant  ques- 
tions of  the  cooks,  and,  after  a  brief  call,  took  his 
leave.  It  was  with  more  than  mere  physical  relief 
that  I  stretched  myself,  and  took  a  new  position  in 
my  somewhat  cramped  quarters.  Immediate  danger 
was  over :  we  had  nothing  more  to  fear  until  the 
cooks  went  in.  We  listened  anxiously,  until  it  seemed 
certain  that  all  danger  from  another  visit  and  the  dis- 
covery of  Captain  Chamberlain's  absence  was  over ; 
then  sat  down  to  wait  for  a  later  hour. 

After  perhaps  an  hour  of  quiet,  we  set  about  what 
little  was  to  be  done  before  we  were  ready  to  leave 
the  building,  —  the  rolling  of  our  blankets,  not  yet 
taken  from  the  tub  in  which  they  had  been  brought 
out,  the  filling  of  our  haversacks,  etc.  To  do 
this  in  perfect  silence  was  no  easy  task.  Any 
noise  made  was  easily  audible  outside :  the  window 
looking  toward  the  jail  had  no  sash,  and  the  blinds 
which  closed  it  failed  to  meet  in  the  center.  A  sen- 
try stood  not  far  distant.  More  than  once,  startled 
by  the  loud  rattling  of  the  paper  which  we  were  un- 
wrapping from  our  provisions,  or  the  clatter  of  some 
dish  inadvertently  touched  in  the  darkness,  we 
paused,  and  anxiously  peeped  through  the  blinds  to 
see  if  the  sentry  had  noticed  it.  The  possibility  of 
any  one's  being  in  the  kitchen  at  that  hour  was  prob- 
ably the  last  thought  to  enter  his  mind.     Many  times 


no.  64j  Escape  from  Lines  249 

we  carefully  felt  our  way  around  the  room,  — stocking- 
foot  and  tip-toe,  —  searching  for  some  article  laid 
down  perhaps  but  a  moment  before,  lost,  without  the 
aid  of  eyesight  to  recover  it,  until  at  length  we 
thought  ourselves  ready  to  pass  into  the  adjoining 
room,  whose  window  opened  upon  the  woodshed. 

The  only  communication  between  these  rooms  was 
by  a  small  hole  broken  through  the  chimney-back, 
scarcely  large  enough  to  admit  the  body,  and  with 
the  passage  further  embarrassed  by  the  stoves  on 
either  side,  so  placed  that  it  was  necessary  to  lie 
down,  and  move  serpent-wise  for  a  considerable  dis- 
tance. Captain  Chamberlain  made  the  first  attempt, 
and  discovered  that  the  door  of  the  stove  on  the 
opposite  side  had  been  left  open,  and  wedged  in  that 
position  by  the  wood,  crowded  in  for  the  morning's 
fire ;  so  that  the  passage  was  effectually  obstructed. 
The  hole  had  to  be  enlarged  by  the  tearing-away  of 
more  bricks,  which,  as  fast  as  removed,  he  handed  to 
me  to  be  laid  on  one  side.  Patient  labor  at  length 
made  a  sufficient  opening,  and  he  passed  through.  I 
handed  to  him  the  blankets,  haversacks,  and  shoes, 
and  with  some  difficulty  followed. 


64.    Escape  from  the  Southern 
Lines 

By  William  G.  Stevenson  (1862) 

We  reached  Chattanooga  on  June  1st,  and  I  found 
it,  to  my  chagrin,  a  military  camp,  containing  seven 
thousand   cavalry,    under   strict    military    rule.      We 


250  Camp  and  March  [No.  e4 

were  now  in  a  trap,  as  our  pass  here  ended,  and  we 
were  near  the  Federal  lines.  How  to  get  out  of  the 
town  was  now  the  problem,  and  one  of  the  most  diffi- 
cult I  had  yet  met  in  my  study  of  Rebel  topography. 
We  put  up  at  the  Crutchfield  House,  stabled  our 
horses,  and  sat  about  in  the  bar-room,  saying  nothing 
to  attract  attention,  but 


getting    all  the  information 


•';* 


'*£ 


UNION   PICKET  LINE. 


possible.  I  was  specially  careful  not  to  be  recog- 
nized. The  cavalry  company  I  had  commanded  on 
the  long  retreat  from  Nashville,  was  in  Chattanooga 
at  this  time.  Had  any  one  of  them  seen  me,  my 
position  would  have  been  doubly  critical ;  as  it  was, 
I  felt  the  need  of  circumspection.  It  was  clear  to  me 
that  we  could  not  leave  Chattanooga  in  military  garb, 
as  we  had  entered  it,  for,  without  a  pass,  no  cavalry- 


no.  64]  Escape  from  Lines  251 

man  could  leave  the  lines.  This  settled,  a  walk 
along  the  street  showed  me  a  Jew  clothing-store, 
with  suits  new  and  old,  military  and  agricultural. 
My  resolution  was  formed,  and  I  went  to  the  stable- 
taking  with  me  a  newly  fledged  cavalry  officer,  who 
needed  and  was  able  to  pay  for  an  elegant  cavalry 
saddle.  Thus  I  was  rid  of  one  chief  evidence  of  the 
military  profession.  A  small  portion  of  the  price 
purchased  a  plain  farmer-like  saddle  and  bridle.  An 
accommodating  dealer  in  clothes  next  made  me  look 
quite  like  a  country  farmer  of  the  middle  class.  My 
companion  was  equally  successful  in  transforming 
himself,  and  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening  we  were  pass- 
ing out  to  the  country  as  farmers  who  had  been  in  to 
see  the  sights. 

We  safely  reached  and  passed  the  outer  pickets, 
and  then  took  to  the  woods,  and  struck  in  toward 
the  Tennessee  river,  hoping  to  find  a  ferry  where 
money,  backed,  if  necessary,  by  the  moral  suasion  of 
pistols,  would  put  us  across.  I  was  growing  des- 
perate, and  determined  not  to  be  foiled.  We  made 
some  twelve  miles,  and  then  rested  in  the  woods  till 
morning,  when  selecting  the  safest  hiding-place  I 
could  find,  I  left  my  companion  with  the  horses  and 
started  out  on  a  reconnoissance. 

Trudging  along  a  road  in  the  direction  of  the 
river,  I  met  a  guileless  man  who  gave  me  some 
information  of  the  name  and  locality  of  a  ferryman, 
who  had  formerly  acted  in  that  capacity,  though  now 
no  one  was  allowed  to  cross.  Carefully  noting  all 
the  facts  I  could  draw  out  of  this  man,  I  strolled  on 
and  soon  fell  in  with  another,  and  gained  additional 
light,  one  item  of  which  was  that  the  old  flat  lay  near, 
and  just  below,  the  ferryman's  house.     Thus  enlight- 


2  52  Camp  and  March  [No.  e4 

ened,  I  walked  on  and  found  the  house  and  my 
breakfast.  Being  a  traveler,  I  secured  without  sus- 
picion sandwiches  enough  to  supply  my  companion 
with  dinner  and  supper,  which  he  enjoyed  as  he  took 
care  of  the  horses  in  the  woods.  A  circuitous  route 
brought  me  to  them,  and  I  was  pleased  to  see  the 
horses  making  a  good  meal  from  the  abundant  grass. 
This  was  an  important  point,  as  our  lives  might  yet 
depend  upon  their  speed  and  endurance. 

I  laid  before  my  companion  the  rather  dubious 
prospect,  that  the  orders  were  strict  that  no  man 
should  be  ferried  across  the  river ;  the  ferryman  was 
faithful  to  the  South ;  he  had  been  conscientious  in 
his  refusal  to  many  applications ;  no  sum  would 
induce  him  to  risk  his  neck,  etc.  Yet  my  purpose 
was  formed :  we  must  cross  the  river  that  night,  and 
this  man  must  take  us  over,  as  there  was  no  other 
hope  of  escape.  Having  laid  the  plan  before  my 
companion,  as  evening  drew  on  I  again  sought  the 
cabin  of  the  retired  ferryman.  My  second  appear- 
ance was  explained  by  the  statement  that  I  had  got 
off  the  road,  and  wandering  in  the  woods,  had  come 
round  to  the  same  place. 

After  taking  supper  with  the  ferryman,  we  walked 
out  smoking  and  chatting.  By  degrees  I  succeeded 
in  taking  him  down  near  the  ferry,  and  there  sat 
down  on  the  bank  to  try  the  effect  upon  his  avari- 
cious heart  of  the  sight  of  some  gold  which  I  had 
purchased  at  Montgomery.  His  eye  glistened  as  he 
examined  an  eagle  with  unwonted  eagerness,  while 
we  talked  of  the  uncertain  value  of  paper-money,  and 
the  probable  future  value  of  Confederate  scrip. 

As  the  time  drew  near  when  my  companion, 
according   to    agreement,  was    to  ride  boldly  to  the 


no.  64]  Escape  from  Lines  253 

river,  I  stepped  down  to  take  a  look  at  his  unused 
flat.  He,  of  course,  walked  with  me.  While  stand- 
ing with  my  foot  upon  the  end  of  his  boat,  I  heard 
the  tramp  of  the  horses,  and  said  to  him,  in  a  quiet 
tone — "Here  is  an  eagle  ;  you  must  take  me  and  my 
companion  over."  He  remonstrated,  and  could  not 
risk  his  life  for  that ;  ■  another  ten  dollars  was 
demanded  and  paid,  the  horses  were  in  the  flat,  and 
in  two  minutes  we  were  off  for  —  home. 

I  arranged,  when  we  touched  the  bank,  to  be  in  the 
rear  of  the  ferryman,  and  followed  him  as  he  stepped 
off  the  boat  to  take  breath  before  a  return  pull. 
"  Now,  my  good  fellow,"  said  I,  "  you  have  done  us 
one  good  turn  for  pay,  you  must  do  another  for 
friendship.  We  are  strangers  here,  and  you  must 
take  us  to  the  foot  of  Waldron's  Ridge,  and  then  we 
will  release  you."  To  this  demand  he  demurred 
most  vigorously  ;  but  my  determined  position  between 
him  and  the  boat,  gentle  words,  and  an  eloquent  exhi- 
bition of  my  six-shooter,  the  sheen  of  which  the  moon- 
light enabled  him  to  perceive,  soon  ended  the  parley, 
and  onward  he  moved.  We  kept  him  in  the  road 
slightly  ahead  of  us,  with  our  horses  on  his  two 
flanks,  and  chatted  as  sociably  as  the  circumstances 
would  permit.  For  six  long  miles  we  guarded  our 
prisoner-pilot,  and,  after  apologizing  for  our  rudeness 
on  the  plea  of  self-preservation,  and  thanking  him 
for  his  enforced  service,  we  bade  him  good-night, 
not  doubting  that  he  would  reach  the  river  in 
time  to  ferry  himself  over  before  daylight,  and  con- 
sole his  frightened  wife  by  the  sight  of  the  golden 
bribe. 

We  were  now,  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  under  the 
shadow  of  a  dark  mountain,  and  with  no  knowledge 


254  Camp  and  March  [No.  e4 

of  the  course  we  were  to  take,  other  than  the  general 
purpose  of  pressing  northward. 

By  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning  we  reached  a 
farm-house,  whose  inmates,  without  many  trouble- 
some inquiries,  agreed  to  feed  our  half-starved  horses 
and  give  us  some  breakfast. 

We  made  some  thirty  miles  that  day,  and  ascend- 
ing the  Cumberland  range  in  the  evening,  we  again 
sought  rest  among  the  rocks.  This  we  judged  safest, 
since  we  knew  not  who  might  have  seen  us  during 
the  day,  of  an  inquiring  state  of  mind,  as  to  our  pur- 
pose and  destination. 

On  the  morning  of  June  4th,  by  a  detour  to  conceal 
the  course  from  which  we  came,  and  a  journey  of  a 
dozen  of  miles,  we  reached  the  home  of  my  friend. 

The  day  after  our  arrival,  he  took  to  his  bed  and 
never  rose  again.  The  hardships  he  had  endured  in 
the  journey  home,  acting  upon  a  system  enfeebled  by 
his  wound,  terminated  in  inflammation  of  the  lungs, 
which  within  a  week  ended  his  life. 

One  more  step  was  needed  to  make  me  safe;  that 
was,  to  get  within  the  Federal  lines,  take  the  oath  of 
allegiance,  and  secure  a  pass.  But  how  could  this  be 
accomplished  ?  Should  the  Federal  authorities  sus- 
pect me  of  having  been  in  the  Rebel  service,  would 
they  allow  me  to  take  the  oath  and  go  my  way  ?  I 
knew  not ;  but  well  I  knew  the  Confederate  officers 
were  never  guilty  of  such  an  absurdity. 

An  incident  which  occurred  about  the  20th  of  June, 
both  endangered  my  escape  and  yet  put  me  upon  the 
way  of  its  accomplishment.  I  rode  my  pet  horse 
Selim  into  the  village  of  McMinnville,  a  few  miles 
from  the  place  of  my  sojourn,  to  obtain  information 
as  to  the  proximity  of  the  Federal  forces,  and,  if  pos- 


No.  64]  Escape  from  Lines  255 

sible,  devise  a  plan  of  getting  within  their  lines  with- 
out exciting  suspicion.  As  Selim  stood  at  the  hotel, 
to  the  amazement  of  every  one,  General  Dumont's 
cavalry  galloped  into  town,  and  one  of  the  troopers 
taking  a  fancy  to  my  horse,  led  him  off  without  my 
knowledge,  and  certainly  without  my  consent.  My 
only  consolation  was,  that  my  noble  Selim  was  now 
to  do.  service  in  the  loyal  ranks. 

The  cavalry  left  the  town  in  a  few  hours,  after 
erecting  a  flag-staff  and  giving  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
to  the  breeze. 

I  left  soon  after  the  Federals  did,  but  in  an  oppo- 
site direction,  with  my  final  plan  perfected.  When 
hailed  by  the  pickets,  a  mile  from  the  town,  I 
told  them  I  wished  to  see  the  officer  in  command. 
They  directed  me  where  to  find  him,  and  allowed  me 
to  advance.  When  I  found  the  officer,  I  stated  that 
some  Federal  cavalry  had  taken  my  horse  in  McMinn- 
ville  a  few  days  ago,  and  I  wished  to  recover  him. 
He  told  me  he  could  give  me  no  authority  to  secure 
my  horse,  unless  I  would  take  the  oath  of  allegiance 
to  the  United  States.  To  this  I  made  no  special 
objection.  With  a  seeming  hesitation,  and  yet  with 
a  joy  that  was  almost  too  great  to  be  concealed,  I 
solemnly  subscribed  the  following  oath : 

"  I  solemnly  swear,  without  any  mental  reservation 
or  evasion,  that  I  will  support  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States  and  the  laws  made  in  pursuance 
thereof ;  and  that  I  will  not  take  up  arms  against  the 
United  States,  or  give  aid  or  comfort,  or  furnish 
information,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  any  person  or 
persons  belonging  to  any  of  the  so-styled  Confed- 
erate States  who  are  now  or  may  be  in  rebellion 
against  the  United  States.     So  help  me  God." 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


256  Camp  and  March  [No.  e5 

The  other  side  of  the  paper  contained  a  military 
pass,  by  authority  of  Lieutenant-colonel  J.  G.  Park- 
hurst,  Military  Governor  of  Murfreesboro. 


65.    Hiding   Provisions  from   the 
Soldiers 

By  Victoria  Virginia  Clayton  (1862) 

Rumors  of  Northern  troops  making  raids  and 
committing  all  kinds  of  depredations  through  the 
Southern  states  came  to  us  frequently.  Being  so  far 
south  we  were  not  disturbed  by  them  until  the  war 
was  almost  ended.  Our  Postmaster,  Mr.  Petty,  sent 
one  morning  in  the  ever-to-be-remembered  spring,  to 
let  me  know  the  startling  news  had  been  received 
that  General  Grierson,  with  a  detachment  of  Union 
soldiers,  was  passing  through  adjacent  counties,  and 
would  probably  reach  Clayton  very  soon.  I  had  old 
Joe  called  in  and  told  him  what  had  come.  The  old 
man  seemed  very  much  troubled.  He  said  little,  but 
that  night,  after  all  the  family  had  retired  and  were 
wrapped  in  unconscious  sleep,  he  came  to  consult  me 
about  secreting  some  provisions  before  the  arrival  of 
these  hostile  troops,  fearing  they  might  destroy  these 
necessary  articles  and  leave  us  in  a  state  of  want,  as 
they  had  done  in  many  instances.  I  said,  "Well, 
Joe,  you  can  do  so  if  you  wish." 

He  took  his  shovel  and  spade  and  went  into  the 
vegetable  garden,  which  was  quite  large  as  it  fur- 
nished supplies  for  the  entire  family,  white  and 
colored.     He  began  digging  in  good  earnest  and  soon 


no.  66]  Hiding  Provisions  257 

had  a  large  opening  made  to  receive  the  things,  but 
could  not  finish  it  in  one  night.  Fortunately,  the 
garden  was  situated  in  an  entirely  different  direction 
from  the  negro  quarters,  so  that  in  going  out  to  work 
next  morning  the  hands  did  not  discover  the  excava- 
tion that  had  been  made  in  the  night 

The  next  night  he  worked  away  until  it  was  suffi- 
ciently large  to  hold  what  we  thought  necessary,  then 
came  to  let  me  know  that  he  was  ready  to  make  the 
transfer.  With  my  basket  of  keys  we  went  out  to 
select  the  articles  —  bacon,  sugar,  syrup,  wine,  and 
many  other  things.  After  putting  these  things  in 
the  excavation,  with'  hard  work  he  covered  them  over, 
put  earth  on  top  until  the  great  hole  was  entirely  hid. 
Next  morning  after  starting  all  to  work  he  returned 
to  the  house,  went  into  the  garden,  laid  off  the  place 
where  the  things  were  hid  in  rows  with  a  plow,  and 
set  out  cabbage  plants,  so  that  in  a  few  days  they 
were  growing  as  peacefully  as  though  nothing,  but 
mother  earth  was  resting  beneath  them.  No  one 
knew  of  this  except  Joe,  his  wife,  Nancy,  and  myself, 
until  peace  was  restored. 


66.    In  Camp  with  Grant 

By  Assistant  Secretary  of  War  Charles  A.  Dana 
(1863) 

All  of  a  sudden  it  is  very  cold  here.  Two  days 
ago  it  was  hot  like  summer,  but  now  I  sit  in  my  tent 
in  my  overcoat,  writing,  and  thinking  if  I  only  were 
at  home  instead  of  being  almost  two  thousand  miles 
away. 


A  glimpse  of 
camp  life  in 
a  letter  to  a 
child.     Writ- 
ten the  night 
after  Mr. 
.Dana  re- 
joined Grant 
at  Hankin- 
son's  Ferry 
on  the  Big 
Black. 


258  Camp  and  March  [No.  ee 

Away  yonder,  in  the  edge  of  the  woods,  I  hear 
the  drum-beat  that  calls  the  soldiers  to  their  supper. 
It  is  only  a  little  after  five  o'clock,  but  they  begin 
the  day  very  early  and  end  it  early.  Pretty  soon 
after  dark  they  are  all  asleep,  lying  in  their  blankets 
under  the  trees,  for  in  a  quick  march  they  leave  their 
tents  behind.  Their  guns  are  already  at  their  sides, 
so  that  if  they  are  suddenly  called  at  night  they  can 
start  in  a  moment.     It  is  strange  in  the  morning  DC- 


surrender  OF  GENERAL  LEE. 


fore  daylight  to  hear  the  bugle  and  drums  sound  the 
reveille,  which  calls  the  army  to  wake  up.  It  will 
begin  perhaps  at  a  distance  and  then  run  along  the 
whole  line,  bugle  after  bugle  and  drum  after  drum 
taking  it  up,  and  then  it  goes  from  front  to  rear, 
farther  and  farther  away,  the  sweet  sounds  throbbing 


no.  67]  Camp  with  Grant  259 

and  rolling  while  you  lie  on  the  grass  with  your  sad- 
dle for  a  pillow,  half  awake,  or  opening  your  eyes 
to  see  that  the  stars  are  all  bright  in  the  sky,  or  that 
there  is  only  a  faint  flush  in  the  east,  where  the  day 
is  soon  to  break. 

Living  in  camp  is  queer  business.  I  get  my  meals 
in  General  Grant's  mess,  and  pay  my  share  of  the 
expenses.  The  table  is  a  chest  with  a  double  cover, 
which  unfolds  on  the  right  and  the  left ;  the  dishes, 
knives  and  forks,  and  caster  are  inside.  Sometimes 
we  get  good  things,  but  generally  we  don't.  The 
cook  is  an  old  negro,  black  and  grimy.  The  cooking 
is  not  as  clean  as  it  might  be,  but  in  war  you  can't  be 
particular  about  such  things. 

The  plums  and  peaches  here  are  pretty  nearly 
ripe.  The  strawberries  have  been  ripe  these  few 
days,  but  the  soldiers  eat  them  up  before  we  get  a 
sight  of  them.  The  figs  are  as  big  as  the  end  of 
your  thumb,  and  the  green  pears  are  big  enough  to 
eat.  But  you  don't  know  what  beautiful  flower  gar- 
dens there  are  here.  I  never  saw  such  roses ;  and 
the  other  day  I  found  a  lily  as  big  as  a  tiger  lily,  only 
it  was  a  magnificent  red. 


67.    A  Turkey  for  a  Bedfellow 

By  Corporal  James  Kendall  Hosmer  (1863) 

So  we  live  and  listen  and  wait.  I  am  reduced  now 
to  about  the  last  stage.  My  poor  blouse  grows  rag- 
geder.  My  boots,  as  boys  say,  are  hungry  in  many 
places.  I  have  only  one  shirt ;  and  that  has  shrunk 
about   the  neck,  until  buttons  and  button-holes   are 


260  Camp  and  March  [No.  e7 

irretrievably  divorced,  and  cannot  be  forced  to  meet. 
Washing-days,  if  I  were  anywhere  else,  I  should  have 
to  lie  abed  until  the  washer-woman  brought  home  the 
shirt.  Now  I  cannot  lie  abed,  for  two  reasons  :  first, 
I  am  washer-woman  myself ;  second,  the  bed  is  only 
bed  at  night.  By  daytime,  it  is  parlor-floor,  divan, 
dining-table,  and  library,  and  therefore  taken  up.  I 
button  up  in  my  blouse,  therefore;  and  can  so  fix 
myself,  and  so  brass  matters  through,  that  you  would 
hardly  suspect,  unless  you  looked  sharp,  what  a 
whited  sepulchre  it  was  that  stood  before  you.  I 
have  long  been  without  a  cup.  Somebody  stole  mine 
long  ago;  and  I,  unfortunate  for  me,  am  deterred, 
by  the  relic  of  a  moral  scruple  which  still  lingers  in 
my  breast,  from  stealing  somebody  else's  in  return. 
My  plate  is  the  original  Camp-Miller  tin  plate,  worn 
down  now  to  the  iron.  I  have  leaned  and  lain  and 
stood  on  it,  until  it  looks  as  if  it  were  in  the  habit  of 
being  used  in  the  exhibitions  of  some  strong  man, 
who  rolled  it  up  and  unrolled  it  to  show  the  strength 
of  his  fingers.  There  is  a  big  crack  down  the  side ; 
and,  soup-days,  there  is  a  great  rivalry  between  that 
crack  and  my  mouth,  —  the  point  of  strife  being, 
which  shall  swallow  most  of  the  soup ;  the  crack 
generally  getting  the  best  of  it. 

Rations  pall  now-a-days.  The  thought  of  soft 
bread  is  an  oasis  in  the  memory.  Instead  of  that, 
our  wearied  molars  know  only  hardtack,  and  hard 
salt  beef  and  pork.  We  pine  for  simple  fruits  and 
vegetables.  The  other  day,  however,  I  received  a 
gift.  An  easy-conscienced  friend  of  mine  brought 
in  a  vast  amount  of  provender  from  a  foraging  expe- 
dition, and  bestowed  upon  me  a  superb  turkey,  —  the 
biggest  turkey  I  ever  saw ;  probably  the  grandfather 


no.  68 j  Turkey  Bedfellow  261 

of  his  whole  race.  His  neck  and  breast  were  deco- 
rated with  a  vast  number  of  red  and  purple  tassels 
and  trimmings.  He  was  very  fat,  moreover  ;  so  that 
he  looked  like  an  apoplectic  sultan.  I  carried  him 
home  with  toil  and  sweat ;  but  what  to  do  with  him 
for  the  night !  If  he  had  been  left  outside,  he  would 
certainly  have  been  stolen  :  so  the  only  way  was  to 
make  a  bedfellow  of  him.  Occasionally  he  woke  up 
and  "gobbled;  "  and  I  feared  all  night  long  the  peck 
of  his  bill  and  the  impact  of  his  spurs.  In  the  morn- 
ing, we  immolated  him  with  appropriate  ceremonies. 
The  chaplain's  coal-hod,  the  best  thing  in  camp  to 
make  a  soup  in,  was  in  use ;  but  I  found  a  kettle, 
and  presided  over  the  preparation  of  an  immense  and 
savory  stew,  the  memory  whereof  will  ever  steam  up 
to  me  from  the  past  with  grateful  sweetness. 


68.    A  Disappointing  Dinner 

By  General  George  H.  Gordon  (1863) 

In  spite  of  all  the  vexations  of  starting,  every  com- 
mander of  troops  will  admit  that,  once  mounted  and 
on  the  march,  the  most  harassing  cares  give  place  to 
buoyancy  if  not  to  exuberance  of  spirits.  As  I  turned 
my  face  towards  Richmond,  I  responded  to  my  host's 
farewell  and  invitation,  "  Call  again,  General,"  with 
at  least  a  seeming  cordiality  ;  and  greeted  almost  ten- 
derly good  Doctor  Hubbard  who  came  to  express  his 
regrets  at  our  departure.  He  was  very  sad,  and  I 
gave  him  all  the  encouragement  I  could.  Again  I 
bore  a  brief  interruption  from  two  young  women,  who, 
propelled  in  a  tip-cart  by  a  single  donkey,  parleyed 


262  Camp  and  March  [No.  es 

with  me  about   a  wagon    taken   by  somebody,  from 
somewhere,  at  some  time. 

At  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we  encamped  for 
the  night,  two  miles  beyond  Barhamsville.  It  rained 
fiercely.  The  men  were  in  the  woods  ;  myself  and 
staff  in  a  dirty  and  empty  shanty  adjacent.  General 
Keyes  occupied  the  best  farm-house  in  the  neighbor- 
hood ;  but  not  for  comfort,  — it  was  a  ruse.  "  Hush  !  " 
he  uttered   in   bated   breath ;    "  still  as   death !    this 


FORAGING    IN    LOUISIANA. 

house  is  not  on  the  road  we  travel.  I  am  here  to 
deceive  the  enemy."  Those  who  have  always  lived 
in  comfort  can  have  but  a  faint  notion  of  the  pleas- 
ures of  an  encampment  at  the  end  of  a  day's  march, 
even  in  tempestuous  and  cheerless  weather.  Give  a 
soldier  wood  for  a  roaring  blaze,  dry  straw  for  a  bed 
if  he  can  get  it,  and  if  not,  then  hemlock  boughs, 
and  if  neither,  then  a  dry  spot  for  his  blanket ;  add 
a  plentiful  supply  of  rations,  and  your  true  soldier 


no.  68]        Disappointing  Dinner       263 

will  find  cheer  where  to  a  civilian  the  outlook  would 
be  dark  and  forbidding.  Before  a  merry  camp-fire 
despondency  gives  place  to  levity,  dulness  to  anima- 
tion ;  hopes  rise,  the  muscles  grow  hard,  the  eye 
brightens,  resolution  is  strengthened,  until  the  worn 
and  cheerless  soldier  who  threw  off  his  canteen,  car- 
tridge-box, and  haversack,  and  faded  into  a  sorry  heap, 
becomes  erect,  strong,  and  defiant.  All  this  is  born 
of  food  and  fire,  of  a  pipe  and  a  merry  group. 

The  dripping  column  that  toiled  heavily  on  its 
march  from  Barhamsville  on  the  25th  of  June,  and 
halted  in  front  of  a  dark  and  gloomy  wood  for  the 
night,  were  soon  transformed  into  happy  dwellers, 
peopling  the  silent  arches  of  the  forest  with  song,  or 
filling  its  dark  recesses  with  a  convivial  glow.  Sol- 
diers, too,  are  mortal,  with  appetites  pertaining  to 
mortality.  In  common  with  races  less  civilized,  they 
have  a  keen  instinct  for  food,  though  they  do  not 
enjoy  with  the  epicure  the  advantages  of  Fulton  or 
Quincy  market ;  hence,  inroads  on  chickens,  hogs, 
and  cattle  that  are  nurtured  on  sacred  soil,  and  an 
accurate  knowledge  of  the  situation  of  smoke  and 
spring  house.  Rank  commands  .external  respect : 
but  rank,  in  common  with  the  lowest  station,  ac- 
knowledges demands  of  hunger ;  and  rank,  however 
exaljted,  will  fail  to  secure  the  bounties  of  the  sur- 
rounding country,  if  it  does  not  provide  against  the 
wandering  tribes  that  swarm  over  and  into  every 
hamlet  within  miles  of  the  march  of  a  column  of 
troops. 

It  was  a  pleasing  idea,  that  of  dinner,  as  I  watched 
the  leaping  blaze  from  my  camp-fire,  and  dried  wet 
places  in  my  clothing.  It  was  a  consoling  thought 
that  I  had  stationed  a  sentinel  at  yonder  farm-house 


264  Camp  and  March  [No,  es 

to  protect  the  dinner  which  the  owner  had  consented 
to  prepare.  In  contemplation  of  my  own  meal,  how 
I  rejoiced  as  my  beloved  troops  were  preparing 
theirs !  To  see  them  crowding  around  the  savory 
messes,  to  know  that  they  were  well  fed  and  happy, 
was  delightful  indeed.  At  last  I  notified  my  staff 
that  we  would  visit  the  Elysian  fields  of  dinner. 

"  Which  is  the  house,  Mr.  White  ?  Go  on,  and 
show  us  the  way." 

"  This  is  it,  hey  ?  I  admire  your  taste ;  it  is  the 
best-looking  house  around  here ;  and  it  was  very  pru- 
dent in  you,  too,  to  post  this  sentinel  at  the  door. 
These  dogs  of  soldiers  are  so  sharp." 

"  This  is  Doctor  Jones,  General,"  said  Mr.  White, 
as  he  introduced  a  gentlemanly  person  as  the  master 
of  the  mansion. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Doctor;  we  have  come  to  dine 
with  you." 

"Why,  General,  I  sent  your  dinner  to  you  more 
than  an  hour  ago." 

"Eh!  what?" 

"  Didn't  you  send  for  it  ?  " 

"  Send  for  it !  ".  I  echoed,  feebly.  "  I  see  it  all ! 
Call  up  that  sentinel.  Has  any  soldier  carried  off  a 
dinner  while  you  have  been  on  post  ? " 

"No,  sir!  " 

"  Did  any  dinner  walk  off  alone  in  your  presence  ?  " 

"  Didn't  see  it,  sir." 

"  When  did  you  send  this  —  this  dinner,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  We  cooked  and  sent  it  as  quickly  as  possible  after 
your  arrival." 

"  But  this  sentinel  was  posted  as  soon  as  we 
arrived,  was  he  not,  Mr.  White  ? "  I  said  to  my 
aid. 


no.  es]        Disappointing  Dinner       265 

"  I  didn't  post  him  until  one  hour  after,"  replied 
the  conscience-stricken  officer. 

"And  before  he  appeared,"  said  the  doctor,  "a 
soldier  came  and  said  he  was  sent  by  the  General  to 
bring  his  dinner  to  him." 

"  General  who  ?  " 

"General  Gordon." 

"  May  that  dinner  choke  that  soldier ! "  I  mut- 
tered. My  aid  was  lost  in  meditation.  But  our  din- 
ner —  ah,  our  dinner  !  —  that  was  gone  forever  ! 

"  Doctor,  have  you  anything  left  to  eat?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  not.  Three  chickens  were  cooked, 
but  the  soldiers  came  and  carried  them  away.  They 
also  killed  my  sitting  hens,  and  hens  with  chickens ; 
took  off  my  beehives,  and  ate  all  I  had  in  the  house. 
So  you  will  have  a  mighty  poor  dinner,  I'm  afraid, 
gentlemen." 

And  it  was  poor,  but  filling.  Though  the  hungry 
officers  were  not,  the  pickled  mangoes  were,  nicely 
stuffed.  The  doctor  favored  us  at  the  table  with  his 
presence,  but  several  young  ladies  concealed  in  upper 
chambers,  brooding  over  secession  and  nursing  ha- 
tred to  Yankees,  did  not.  In  a  short  after-dinner 
conversation  my  host  declared  the  Southern  belief  to 
be  that  we  were  waging  this  war  for  their  total  sub- 
jugation, and  that  such  belief  rendered  it  impossible 
for  them  to  do  anything  but  fight.  He  thought  they 
would  come  back  to  the  Union  as  it  was,  if  we  would 
consent. 


266  Camp  and  March  [No.  e9 


Thomas  J. 
Jackson, 
commonly 
called 

"  Stonewall " 
because  his 
brigade  at 
Bull  Run 
stood  "  like  a 
stone  wall," 
was  one  of 
the  ablest 
Confederate 
command- 
ers. 


69.      Stonewall  Jackson  as  a  Man 

By  a  Virginian  (1863) 

We  have  seen  what  Jackson  accomplished.  Let 
us  now  endeavor  to  see  what  manner  of  man,  out- 
wardly, it  was  who  thus  overthrew  all  his  enemies, 
and  built  himself  a  name  which  is  the  echo  of  glory 
and  victory.  How  such  men  look  is  interesting  — 
how  they  dress  and  appear  among  their  fellow-men. 
Jackson's  costume  and  deportment  were  unique,  and 
have  doubtless  contributed  in  some  degree  to  that 
amazing  individuality  which  he  has  secured  in  the 
popular  mind.  The  writer  of  these  lines  first  saw 
him  soon  after  the  battle  of  Port  Republic,  and  can 
thus  present  an  outline  of  the  great  athlete,  as  he  ap- 
peared, all  covered  with  the  dust  of  the  arena,  whereon 
Banks  and  his  compeers  had  been  overthrown  by 
him.  Jackson  was  in  his  fighting  costume  at  the 
moment ;  it  was  the  conqueror  of  the  Valley  who 
moved  before  us ;  and,  to  complete  the  picture,  he 
had,  at  the  moment  when  we  first  encountered  him, 
his  war-look  on  —  was  in  his  veritable  element. 

The  outward  appearance  of  the  famous  leader  was 
not  imposing.  The  popular  idea  of  a  great  general 
is  an  individual  of  stiff  and  stately  bearing,  clad  in 
splendid  costume,  all  covered  with  gold  lace  and  dec- 
orations, who  prances  by  upon  a  mettled  charger,  and 
moves  on,  before  admiring  crowds,  accompanied  by 
his  glittering  staff,  and  grand  in  all  the  magnificence 
of  high  command.  The  figure  of  General  Stonewall 
Jackson  was  singularly  different  from  this  popular 
fancy.  He  wore  an  old  sun-embrowned  coat  of  gray 
cloth,  originally  a  very  plain  one,  and  now  almost  out 


No.  69]  Stonewall  Jackson  267 

at  elbows.  To  call  it  sun-embrowned,  however,  is 
scarcely  to  convey  an  adequate  idea  of  the  extent  of 
its  discoloration.  It  had  that  dingy  hue,  the  result  of 
exposure  to  rain  and  snow  and  scorching  sunshine, 
which  is  so  unmistakable.  It  was  plain  that  the  gen- 
eral had  often  stretched  his  weary  form  upon  the  bare 
ground,  and  slept  in  the  old  coat ;  and  it  seemed  to  have 
brought  away  with  it  no  little  of  the  dust  of  the  Valley. 
A  holiday  soldier  would  have  disdained  to  wear  such 
a  garb ;  but  the  men  of  the  old  Stonewall  Brigade, 
with  their  brave  comrades  of  the  corps,  loved  that 
coat,  and  admired  it  and  its  owner  more  than  all  the 
holiday  uniforms  and  holiday  warriors  in  the  world. 

The  general  rode  in  a  peculiar  fashion,  leaning  for- 
ward somewhat,  and  apparently  unconscious  that  he 
was  in  the  saddle.  His  air  was  singularly  abstracted  ; 
and,  unless  aware  of  his  identity,  no  beholder  would 
have  dreamed  that  this  plainly  clad  and  absent-look- 
ing soldier  was  the  idolized  leader  of  a  great  army 
corps,  at  that  very  instant  hurling  themselves,  column 
after  column,  upon  the  foe. 

The  glittering  eye  beneath  the  yellow  cap  would 
have  altered  somewhat  the  impression  that  this  man 
was  a  nobody  —  that  wonderful  eye,  in  whose  blaze 
was  the  evidence  of  a  slumbering  volcano  beneath ; 
but  beyond  this,  there  was  absolutely  nothing  in  the 
appearance  of  General  Jackson  to  indicate  his  great 
rank  or  genius  as  a  soldier. 

Such  was  the  outward  man  of  the  famous  general, 
as  he  appeared  soon  after  the  campaign  of  the  Val- 
ley ■ —  and  this  plainness  of  exterior  had  in  no  small 
degree  endeared  him  to  his  soldiers.  His  habits  were 
still  greater  claims  on  the  respect  and  regard  of  the 
best   men  of    his  command.     He  was  known    to  be 


268  Camp  and  March  [No.  69 

wholly  free  from  all  those  vices  which  are  the  pe- 
culiar temptation  of  a  military  life.  He  lived  as 
plainly  as  his  men,  and  shared  all  their  hardships, 
never  for  a  moment  acting  upon  the  hypothesis  that 
his  rank  entitled  him  to  any  luxury  or  comfort  which 
they  could  not  share.  His  food  was  plain  and  simple  ; 
his  tent,  when  he  had  one,  which  was  seldom,  no  bet- 


AN   ARMY  POST   OFFICE. 


ter  than  those  of  the  men  ;  he  would  wrap  himself  in 
his  blankets  and  lie  down  under  a  tree  or  in  a  fence 
corner,  with  perfect  content,  and  apparently  from 
preference ;  for  to  fight  hard  and  live  hard  seemed  to 
be  the  theory  of  war.  He  was  a  devout  Christian, 
and  rarely  allowed  passion  to  conquer  him ;  when  he 
yielded,  it  was  on  exciting  occasions,  and  when  great 


No.  7o]  Stonewall  yackson  269 

designs  were  thwarted  by  negligence  or  incapacity 
on  the  part  of  those  to  whom  their  execution  was  in- 
trusted. Such  occasions  seldom  occurred,  and  Jack- 
son's habitual  temper  of  mind  was  a  gentle  and  child- 
like sweetness  ;  a  simplicity  and  purity  of  heart,  which 
proved  that  he  had  indeed  become  as  a  little  child  — 
walking  humbly  and  devoutly  before  his  God.  Prayer 
was  like  breathing  with  him  —  the  normal  condition 
of  his  being.  Every  morning  he  read  his  Bible  and 
prayed,  and  the  writer  will  not  soon  forget  the  pic- 
ture drawn  by  one  of  his  distinguished  associates, 
who  rode  to  his  headquarters  at  daylight,  last  Novem- 
ber, when  the  army  was  falling  back  to  Fredericks- 
burg from  the  Valley,  and  found  him  reading  his 
Testament,  quietly  in  his  tent,  an  occupation  which 
he  only  interrupted  to  describe,  in  tones  of  quiet  sim- 
plicity, his  intended  movements  to  foil  the  enemy. 
Before  sitting  down  to  table  he  raised  both  hands, 
and  said  grace.  When  he  contemplated  any  move- 
ment, his  old  servant  is  said  to  have  always  known  it 
by  his  wrestling  in  prayer  for  many  hours  of  the 
night ;  and  on  the  battle-field  thousands  noticed  the 
singular  gestures  with  the  right  arm,  sometimes  both 
arms,  raised  aloft.  Those  who  looked  closely  at  him 
at  such  moments  saw  his  lips  moving  in  prayer.  Like 
Joshua,  he  prayed  with  uplifted  hand  for  victory. 


70.    Three   War   Songs 

MARCHING  THROUGH  GEORGIA 

Bring  the  good  old  bugle,  boys !  we'll  sing  another  These  songs 
song  —  are  not  very 

~.  .  .  ,  •    •       1  -ii  1  iii  poetic,  but 

Sing  it  with  a  spirit  that  will  start  the  world  along  —  were  sung  by 


270  Camp  and  March  [No.  70 

hundreds  of    Sing  it  as  we  used  to  sing  it  fifty  thousand  strong, 
thousands  of  While  we  were  marching  through  Georgia. 

soldiers  and  °  °  ° 

bers  of  school   Chorus.  —  "  Hurrah  !   Hurrah  !   we  bring  the  jubilee ! 
children  in  Hurrah  !   Hurrah  !  the  flag  that  makes  you 

the  North.  .         ,  .,  °  J 

free !  * 
So  we  sang  the  chorus  from  Atlanta  to  the 

sea, 
While  we  were  marching  through  Georgia. 

How  the  darkeys  shouted  when  they  heard  the  joyful 

sound ! 
How   the    turkeys    gobbled    which    our   commissary 

found ! 
How  the  sweet  potatoes  even  started  from  the  ground, 
While  we  were    marching   through   Georgia.  — 

Chorus. 

Yes,  and  there  were  Union  men  who  wept  with  joyful 

tears, 
When  they  saw  the  honor'd  flag  they  had  not  seen 

for  years ; 
Hardly  could  they  be  restrained  from  breaking  forth 

in  cheers, 
While  we  were   marching    through    Georgia.  — 

Chorus. 

"  Sherman's  dashing  Yankee  boys  will  never  reach 

the  coast !  " 
So  the  saucy  rebels  said  —  and   'twas   a  handsome 

boast, 
Had  they  not  forgot,  alas !  to  reckon  on  a  host, 

While  we  were    marching   through   Georgia.  — 

Chorus. 


no.  7o]  Three  War  Songs  271 

So  we  made  a  thoroughfare  for  Freedom  and  her  train, 
Sixty  miles  in  latitude  —  three  hundred  to  the  main  ; 
Treason  fled  before  us,  for  resistance  was  in  vain, 
While  we  were   marching   through  Georgia.  — 

Chorus. 


THE    BATTLE-CRY    OF    FREEDOM 

Yes,  we'll  rally  round  the  flag,  boys,  we'll  rally  once 
again, 
Shouting  the  battle-cry  of  freedom, 
We  will  rally  from  the  hill-side,  we'll  gather  from  the 
plain, 
Shouting  the  battle-cry  of  freedom. 

Chorus. —  The  Union  forever,  hurrah!  boys,  hurrah, 
Down  with  the  traitor,  up  with  the  star, 
While  we  rally  round  the  flag,  boys,  rally 
once  again, 
Shouting  the  battle-cry  of  freedom. 

We  are  springing  to  the  call  of  our  brothers  gone  be- 
fore, 
Shouting  the  battle-cry  of  freedom, 
And  we'll  fill  the  vacant  ranks  with  a  million  freemen 
more, 
Shouting  the  battle-cry  of  freedom.  —  Chorus. 

We  will  welcome  to  our  numbers  the  loyal,  true,  and 
brave, 
Shouting  the  battle-cry  of  freedom, 
And  altho'  they  may  be  poor,  not  a  man  shall  be  a 
slave, 
Shouting  the  battle-cry  of  freedom.  —  Chorus. 


272  Camp  and  March  [No.  70 

So  we're  springing  to  the  call  from  the  East  and  from 
the  West, 
Shouting  the  battle-cry  of  freedom. 
And  we'll  hurl  the  rebel  crew  from  the  land  we  love 
the  best, 
Shouting  the  battle-cry  of  freedom.  —  Chorus. 

TRAMP,    TRAMP,    TRAMP 

In  the  prison  cell  I  sit, 

Thinking,  mother  dear,  of  you, 
And  our  bright  and  happy  home  so  far  away, 

And  the  tears  they  fill  my  eyes, 
Spite  of  all  that  I  can  do, 

Tho'  I  try  to  cheer  my  comrades  and  be  gay. 

Chorus.  —  Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  the  boys  are  march- 
ing, 
Oh,  cheer  up,  comrades,  they  will  come, 
And  beneath  the  starry  flag  we  shall  breathe 
the  air  again, 
Of  freedom  in  our  own  beloved  home. 

In  the  battle  front  we  stood 

When  the  fiercest  charge  they  made, 
And  they  swept  us  off  a  hundred  men  or  more, 

But  before  we  reached  their  lines 
They  were  beaten  back  dismayed, 
And  we  heard  the  cry  of  vict'ry  o'er  and  o'er. — Chorus. 

So  within  the  prison  cell 

We  are  waiting  for  the  day 
That  shall  come  to  open  wide  the  iron  door, 

And  the  hollow  eye  grows  bright, 
And  the  poor  heart  almost  gay, 

As    we    think  of    seeing    friends  and    home   once 
more.  —  Chorus. 


no.  71]  A  Rainy  Night  273 

71.    A  Rainy  Night 

By  Reverend  George  Hughes  Hep  worth  (1863) 

That  night,  our  advance  encamped  within  six  miles 
of  the  enemy's  works.  I  accepted  the  kind  invitation 
of  Colonel  Bullock,  of  the  Thirtieth,  to  share  his  tent, 
and  slept  as  comfortably  on  the  dry  grass  and  dead 
leaves  as  though  I  had  had  a  bed  of  down.  A  hard 
ride  of  six  or  eight  hours  naturally  inclined  me  to 
hunger  and  sleep.  I  relished  a  pile  of  crackers  and 
cheese  more  than  Vitellius  ever  did  his  dainty  dish  of 
birds'  tongues,  and  was  soon  afterwards  on  my  back, 
giving  good  evidence  of  my  condition. 

I  slept  soundly  until  about  half-past  ten ;  when  a 
faint,  booming  sound  awoke  me.  It  occurred  at  regu- 
lar intervals  of  about  a  minute  ;  and,  as  soon  as  I 
gathered  my  scattered  senses,  I  knew  that  the  gun- 
boats were  hard  at  work.  I  lay  quietly  for  some  time, 
awed  by  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion ;  for  it  was 
then  pitch  dark,  and  the  dull,  heavy  sound  was 
freighted  with  success  or  defeat ;  and,  on  opening  my 
eyes  again,  I  could  distinctly  trace  the  course  of  the 
shell  through  the  air  by  the  light  of  the  fuses.  I 
watched  them  until  about  two  o'clock,  when  I  ordered 
my  horse,  and  set  out  for  headquarters.  It  was  so 
dark  that  I  could  not  keep  the  road,  and  so  trusted  to 
the  instincts  of  my  noble  beast.  It  was  a  lonely  ride, 
—  five  miles  through  dense  woods,  the  silence  only 
broken  by  the  gruff  "  Who  goes  there  ?  "  of  the  guard, 
and  the  ominous  clicking  of  the  hammer  as  he  cocked 
his  gun. 

I  had  just  reached  headquarters  when  the  welcome 
news  came  that  a  part  of  the  fleet  had  succeeded  in 


274  Camp  and  March  [No.  7i 


getting  by  the  fort.  Still  there  was  something  omi- 
nous in  a  certain  glare  of  light,  which  ever  and  anon 
burst  up  from  the  tree-tops  in  the  distance.  One  of  our 
vessels  must  have  caught  fire.  It  could  not  be  a  com- 
mon gunboat,  for  the  flames  had  already  lasted  several 
hours.  At  last  a  courier  came,  saying  that  the  Missis- 
sippi had  caught  fire.  That  noble  vessel  was  part  of 
the  price  we  were  to  pay  for  the  victory  hoped  for. 


THE   ENCAMPMENT  AT   NIGHT. 


I  have  never  witnessed  a  scene  so  magnificent  as 
that  which  closed  the  career  of  this  war-ship.  One 
moment,  the  flames  would  die  away,  and  then  the 
black  darkness  of  the  night  seemed  heavier  than  ever ; 
in  another  minute,  the  flames  would  curl  up  again 
above  the  tree-tops,  and  tinge  the  cloud-edges  with 
a  lurid  light.  At  length  came  the  catastrophe.  I 
thought  the  fire  had  gone  out;  and  was  just  turning 
away,  when  fold  after  fold  of  cloudy  flame,  driven 
with  terrific  force,  rose  higher  and  higher,  until  the 


no.  7i]  A  Rainy  Night  275 

entire  heavens  were  illuminated,  as  though  the  sun 
itself  had  burst ;  and  immediately  after  came  a  sound 
that  shook  the  earth,  —  a  crash  so  awful,  that  it 
seemed  as  though  one  could  feel  it ;  which  thundered 
along  the  entire  horizon,  frightening  the  birds  in  their 
coverts '  and  the  horses  in  their  stalls ;  and  then  all 
was  still  and  dark.  The  Mississippi  was  no  more. 
That  noble  vessel,  which  had  made  for  herself  a  his- 
tory, had  at  last  fallen  a  victim  to  the  chances  of  war. 
She  was  a  splendid  ship  ;  and  every  American  will 
remember  with  regret  the  hour  when  she  was  lost. 

That  night,  fortune  did  not  favor  me.  I  had  es- 
corted Colonel  Clarke,  who  had  been  wounded,  be- 
yond our  lines,  on  the  Baton-Rouge  road ;  and,  a 
second  time,  accepted  the  hospitality  of  Colonel 
Bullock.  I  was  quietly  and  with  great  zest  gnawing 
a  beef-bone,  wondering  at  the  novelty  of  a  soldier's 
life,  when  I  was  surprised  out  of  my  dream  by  the 
patter  of  rain.  I  was  fully  prepared  for  fine  weather ; 
but  rain  I  had  not  reckoned  upon.  The  ground  was 
so  low  and  marshy,  that,  in  the  course  of  the  first  half- 
hour,  there  were  at  least  three  inches  of  water  on  it. 
I  perched  myself  on  a  bread-box,  however,  and  crossed 
my  legs,  feeling  that  delightful  indifference  to  all 
fortune,  which  is  the  charm  and  necessity  of  a  sol- 
dier's life.  My  bone  and  my  hunger  were  enough  to 
occupy  all  my  thoughts.  My  inner  man,  astonished 
at  the  utter  neglect  of  the  last  eighteen  hours,  was 
determined  that  I  should  concentrate  my  attention 
upon  one  thing  only.  That  luscious  beef-bone,  which, 
only  a  few  hours  before,  had  been  trotting  about  gayly 
in  those  very  woods,  seemed  to  me  the  richest  luxury 
in  the  world. 

When  I  had  satisfied  my  hunger,  I  began  to  rec- 


276  Camp  and  March  [No.  71 

ognize  the  fact,  that  the  tent  was  pitched  in  four 
inches  of  water,  and  that  it  was  raining  most  lustily. 
I  splattered  out,  tied  my  horse  under  a  large  tree, 
laughed  heartily  at  the  look  of  perfect  surprise  he 
put  on  as  I  turned  to  leave  him,  and  then  hunted 
until  I  came  across  a  stretcher  which  would  lift  me 
just  six  inches  from  the  ground,  and  serve  very  com- 
fortably for  a  bed.  Fortune  did  indeed  favor  me. 
I  was  two  inches  above  the  water,  and  had  a  cover- 
ing above  my  head,  which  only  once  in  a  while  played 
the  sieve,  and  showered  me.  I  slept  soundly  as  only 
the  tired  man  can.  In  the  morning,  my  faithful 
horse  waked  me  with  his  neighing ;  and,  if  he  had  had 
the  power  of  speech,  I  do  not  doubt  he  would  have 
scolded  me  well  for  leaving  him  all  night  in  a  pond. 

I  was  surprised  at  the  uniform  cheerfulness  of  the 
men  under  these  trying  circumstances.  They  had  no 
covering  except  their  rubber-blankets,  which  they 
stretched  out  —  a  very  poor  roof  —  upon  four  upright 
stakes.  They  were,  most  of  them,  drenched  to  the 
skin.  Yet  around  the  camp-fires  were  heard  only 
mirth  and  wildest  hilarity.  Once  in  a  while,  I  came 
across  some  poor  unfortunate,  who  had  dropped  his 
blanket  in  the  mud,  and  down  whose  back  the  rain 
was  trickling  mercilessly ;  and  who  seemed  to  have 
arrived  at  the  sage  conclusion,  that  a  soldier's  life  is 
not  always  gay,  as  generally  represented,  and  that 
camp-life  and  camp-meeting  are  two  very  different 
things.  But  even  he  soon  gathered  his  muddy  clothes 
about  him  ;  and,  crawling  alongside  the  bright  fire, 
got  into  a  better  humor  with  himself  and  the  fortunes 
of  war. 


no.  72]  March  to  the  Sea  277 

72.    An   Incident  in   the  March   to 
the  Sea 

By  General  William  Tecumseh  Sherman  (1864) 

The  afternoon  was  unusually  raw  and  cold.  My 
orderly  was  at  hand  with  his  invariable  saddle-bags, 
which  contained  a  change  of  underclothing,  my  maps, 
a  flask  of  whiskey  and  bunch  of  cigars.  Taking  a 
drink  and  lighting  a  cigar,  I  walked  to  a  row  of 
negro-huts  close  by,  entered  one  and  found  a  soldier 
or  two  warming  themselves  by  a  wood-fire.  I  took 
their  place  by  the  fire,  intending  to  wait  there  till  our 
wagons  had  got  up,  and  a  camp  made  for  the  night. 
I  was  talking  to  the  old  negro  woman,  when  some 
one  came  and  explained  to  me  that,  if  I  would  come 
further  down  the  road,  I  could  find  a  better  place. 
So  I  started  on  foot,  and  found  on  the  main  road  a 
good  double-hewed  log-house,  in  one  room  of  which 
Colonel  Poe,  Dr.  Moore  and  others,  had  started  a 
fire.  I  sent  back  orders  to  the  "plum  bushes"  to 
bring  our  horses  and  saddles  up  to  this  house,  and  an 
orderly  to  conduct  our  head-quarter  wagons  to  the 
same  place. 

In  looking  around  the  room,  I  saw  a  small  box, 
like  a  candle  box,  marked  Howell  Cobb,  and,  on  in- 
quiring of  a  negro,  found  that  we  were  at  the  planta- 
tion of  General  Howell  Cobb,  of  Georgia,  one  of  the 
leading  rebels  of  the  South,  then  a  general  in  the 
Southern  army,  and  who  had  been  Secretary  of 
the  United  States  Treasury  in  Mr.  Buchanan's  time. 
Of  course,  we  confiscated  his  property,  and  found  it 
rich  in  corn,  beans,  peanuts,  and  sorghum-molasses. 


GENERAL    SHERMAN. 


no. 72]  March  to  the  Sea  279 

Extensive  fields  were  all  around  the  house.  I  sent 
back  word  to  General  Davis  to  explain  whose  planta- 
tion it  was,  and  instructed  him  to  spare  nothing. 
That  night  huge  bonfires  consumed  the  fence-rails, 
kept  our  soldiers  warm,  and  the  teamsters  and  men, 
as  well  as  the  slaves,  carried  off  an  immense  quantity 
of  corn  and  provisions  of  all  sorts. 

In  due  season  the  head-quarter  wagons  came  up, 
and  we  got  supper.  After  supper  I  sat  on  a  chair 
astride,  with  my  back  to  a  good  fire,  musing,  and  be- 
came conscious  that  an  old  negro  with  tallow  candle 
in  his  hand,  was  scanning  my  face  closely. 
I  inquired,  "  What  do  you  want,  old  man  ?  " 
He  answered,  "  Dey  say  you  is  Massa  Sherman." 
I  answered  that  such  was  the  case,  and  inquired 
what  he  wanted.  He  only  wanted  to  look  at  me, 
and  kept  muttering,  "  Dis  nigger  can't  sleep  dis 
night."  I  asked  him  why  he  trembled  so,  and  he  said 
that  he  wanted  to  be  sure  that  we  were  in  fact  Yan- 
kees, for  on  some  former  occasion  some  rebel  cavalry 
had  put  on  light  blue  overcoats,  personating  Yankee 
troops,  and  many  of  the  negroes  were  deceived 
thereby,  himself  among  the  number  —  had  shown 
them  sympathy,  and  had,  in  consequence,  been  un- 
mercifully beaten  therefor.  This  time  he  wanted  to 
be  certain  before  committing  himself ;  so  I  told  him 
to  go  out  on  the  porch,  from  which  he  could  see  the 
whole  horizon  lit  up  with  camp-fires,  and  he  could 
then  judge  whether  he  had  ever  seen  anything  like  it 
before. 

The  old  man  became  convinced  that  the  Yankees 
had  come  at  last,  about  whom  he  had  been  dreaming 
all  his  life ;  and  some  of  the  staff  officers  gave  him  a 
strong  drink  of  whiskey,  which  set  his  tongue  going. 


2  8  o  Camp  and  March  [No.  73 

Lieutenant  Snelling,  who  commanded  my  escort,  was 
a  Georgian,  and  recognized  in  this  old  negro  a  favor- 
ite slave  of  his  uncle,  who  resided  about  six  miles  off ; 
but  the  old  slave  did  not  at  first  recognize  his  young 
master  in  our  uniform.  One  of  my  staff  officers 
asked  him  what  had  become  of  his  young  master 
George.  He  did  not  know  only  that  he  had  gone  off 
to  the  war,  and  he  supposed  him  killed,  as  a  matter 
of  course.  His  attention  was  then  drawn  to  Snell- 
ing's  face,  when  he  fell  on  his  knees  and  thanked 
God  that  he  had  found  his  young  master  alive  and 
along  with  the  Yankees. 

Snelling  inquired  all  about  his  uncle  and  the  family, 
asked  permission  to  go  and  pay  his  uncle  a  visit, 
which  I  granted,  of  course,  and  the  next  morning  he 
described  to  me  his  visit.  The  uncle  was  not'  cordial 
by  any  means,  to  find  his  nephew  in  the  ranks  of  the 
host  that  was  desolating  the  land,  and  Snelling  came 
back,  having  exchanged  his  tired  horse  for  a  fresher 
one  out  of  his  uncle's  stables,  explaining  that  surely 
some  of  the  bummers  would  have  got  the  horse,  had 
he  not 


73.    Sheridan's  Ride 

By  Thomas  Buchanan  Read  (1864) 


This  spirited 
poem  was 
published  a 
few  days  after 
the  battle  of 
Cedar  Creek, 
when  Sheri- 
dan's arrival 
prevented  a 
defeat. 


Up  from  the  South,  at  break  of  day, 

Bringing  to  Winchester  fresh  dismay, 

The  affrighted  air  with  a  shudder  bore, 

Like  a  herald  in  haste,  to  the  chieftain's  door, 

The  terrible  grumble  and  rumble  and  roar, 

Telling  the  battle  was  on  once  more, 

And  Sheridan  twenty  miles  away. 


no.  73]  Sheridan  s  Ride  281 

And  wider  still  those  billows  of  war 

Thundered  along  the  horizon's  bar, 

And  louder  yet  into  Winchester  rolled 

The  roar  of  that  red  sea,  uncontrolled, 

Making  the  blood  of  the  listener  cold 

As  he  thought  of  the  stake  in  that  fiery  fray, 

And  Sheridan  twenty  miles  away. 

But  there  is  a  road  to  Winchester  town, 

A  good,  broad  highway,  leading  down ; 

And  there,  through  the  flush  of  the  morning  light 

A  steed,  as  black  as  the  steeds  of  night, 

Was  seen  to  pass  as  with  eagle  flight : 

As  if  he  knew  the  terrible  need, 

He  stretched  away  with  his  utmost  speed. 

Hill  rose  and  fell ;  but  his  heart  was  gay, 

With  Sheridan  fifteen  miles  away. 

Still  sprung  from  those  swift  hoofs,  thundering  south, 

The  dust,  like  the  smoke  from  the  cannon's  mouth, 

Or  the  trail  of  a  comet,  sweeping  faster  and  faster, 

Foreboding  to  traitors  the  doom  of  disaster ; 

The  heart  of  the  steed,  and  the  heart  of  the  master 

Were  beating,  like  prisoners  assaulting  their  walls, 

Impatient  to  be  where  the  battle-field  calls. 

Every  nerve  of  the  charger  was  strained  to  full  play, 

With  Sheridan  only  ten  miles  away. 

Under  his  spurning  feet  the  road 

Like  an  arrowy  Alpine  river  flowed ; 

And  the  landscape  sped  away  behind 

Like  an  ocean  flying  before  the  wind ; 

And  the  steed,  like  a  bark  fed  with  furnace  ire, 

Swept  on  with  his  wild  eyes  full  of  fire. 

But  lo  !  he  is  nearing  his  heart's  desire; 


282  Camp  and  March  [No.  73 

He  is  snuffing  the  smoke  of  the  roaring  fray, 
With  Sheridan  only  five  miles  away. 

The  first  that  the  General  saw  were  the  groups 

Of  stragglers,  and  then  the  retreating  troops. 

What  was  done  —  what   to  do  —  a  glance  told   him 

both; 
Then,  striking  his  spurs,  with  a  terrible  oath, 
He  dashed  down  the  line  'mid  a  storm  of  huzzas, 
And   the   wave   of   retreat  checked  its   course  there 

because 
The  sight  of  the  master  compelled  it  to  pause. 
With  foam  and  with  dust  the  black  charger  was  gray. 
By  the  flash  of  his  eye,  and  his  red  nostrils'  play, 
He  seemed  to  the  whole  great  army  to  say : 
"  I  have  brought  you  Sheridan,  all  the  way 
From  Winchester  down,  to  save  you  the  day !  " 

Hurrah,  hurrah,  for  Sheridan ! 

Hurrah,  hurrah,  for  horse  and  man  ! 

And  when  their  statues  are  placed  on  high, 

Under  the  dome  of  the  Union  sky  — 

The  American  soldiers'  Temple  of  Fame,  — 

There,  with  the  glorious  General's  name, 

Be  it  said,  in  letters  both  bold  and  bright : 

"  Here  is  the  steed  that  saved  the  day 
By  carrying  Sheridan  into  the  fight, 

From  Winchester,  twenty  miles  away !  " 


PART  VI 
UNDER    FIRE 


74.    A  Private  in  Battle 

By  Carlton  McCarthy  (1861) 

The  column,  hitherto  moving  forward  with  the 
steadiness  of  a  mighty  river,  hesitates,  halts,  steps 
back  then  forward,  hesitates  again,  halts.  The 
colonels  talk  to  the  brigadier,  the  brigadiers  talk  to 
the  major-general,  some  officers  hurry  forward  and 
others  hurry  to  the  rear.  Infantry  stands  to  one  side 
of  the  road,  while  cavalry  trots  by  to  the  front.  Now 
some  old  wagons  marked  "  Ord.  Dept."  go  creaking  ordinance 
and  rumbling  by.  One  or  two  light  ambulances,  Department, 
with  a  gay  and  careless  air,  seem  to  trip  along  with 
the  ease  of  a  dancing  girl.  They  and  the  surgeons 
seem  cheerful.  Some,  not  many,  ask,  "What  is  the 
matter  ?  "  Most  of  the  men  there  know  exactly  :  they 
are  on  the  edge  of  battle. 

Presently  a  very  quiet  almost  sleepy  looking  man 
on  horseback,  says,  "  Forward,  19th ! "  and  away 
goes  the  leading  regiment.  A  little  way  ahead  the 
regiment  jumps  a  fence,  and  —  pop  !  bang  !  whis  ! 
thud  !  is  all  that  can  be  heard  until  the  rebel  yell 
reverberates  through  the  woods.  Battle  ?  No  !  skir- 
mishers advancing. 

283 


284 


Under  Fire  [No.  74 


Step  into  the  woods  now,  and  watch  these  skir- 
mishers. See  how  cheerfully  they  go  in.  How 
rapidly  they  load,  fire  and  reload.  They  stand  six 
and  twelve  feet  apart,  calling  to  each  other,  laughing, 
shouting,  cheering,  but  advancing.  There :  one  fel- 
low has  dropped  his  musket  like  something  red  hot. 
His  finger  is  shot  away.  His  friends  congratulate 
him,  and  he  walks  sadly  away  to  the  rear.  Another 
staggers  and  falls,  with  a  ball  through  his  neck,  mor- 
tally wounded.  Two  comrades  raise  him  to  his  feet 
and  try  to  lead  him  away,  but  one  of  them  receives 
a  ball  in  his  thigh,  which  crushes  the  bone,  and  he 
falls  groaning  to  the  ground.  They  have  at  last 
driven  the  enemy's  skirmishers  in  upon  the  line  of 
battle,  and  are  waiting.  A  score  of  men  have  fallen 
here,  some  killed  outright,  some  slightly,  some  sorely, 
some  mortally  wounded. 

Now  a  battery  has  been  hurried  into  position,  the 
heavy  trails  have  fallen  to  the  ground,  and  at  the 
command  "  Commence  firing  !  "  the  cannoneers  have 
stepped  in  briskly  and  loaded.  The  first  gun  blazes 
at  the  muzzle,  and  away  goes  a  shell.  The  poor 
fellows  in  the  woods  rejoice  as  it  crashes  through  the 
trees  over  their  heads,  and  cheer  when  it  explodes 
over  the  enemy's  line. 

But  help  is  coming.  At  the  edge  of  the  woods, 
where  the  skirmishers  entered,  the  brigade  is  in  line. 
Somebody  has  ordered,  "  Load  !  " 

The  ramrods  glisten  and  rattle  down  the  barrels 
of  a  thousand  muskets.  "  Forward !  "  is  the  next 
command,  and  the  brigade  disappears  in  the  woods, 
the  canteens  rattling,  the  bushes  crackling,  and  the 
officers  never  ceasing  to  say,  "  Close  up,  men  ;  close 
up  !  guide  centre  !  " 


no.  74]        A  Private  in  Battle         285 

The  men  on  that  skirmish  line  have  at  last  found 
it  advisable  to  lie  down  at  full  length  on  the  ground, 
though  it  is  so  wet,  and  place  their  heads  against  the 
trees  in  front.  They  cannot  advance  and  they  can- 
not retire  without,  in  either  case,  exposing  themselves 
to  almost  certain  death.  They  are  waiting  for  the 
line  of  battle  to  come  to  their  relief. 

At  last,  before  they  see,  they  hear  the  line  advanc- 
ing through  the  pines.  The  snapping  of  the  twigs, 
the  neighing  of  horses,  and  hoarse  commands,  inspire 
a  husky  cheer,  and  when  the  line  of  the  old  brigade 
breaks  through  the  trees  in  full  view,  they  fairly  yell ! 
Every  man  jumps  to  his  feet,  the  brigade  presses 
firmly  forward,  and  soon  the  roll  of  musketry  tells  all 
who  are  waiting  to  hear  that  serious  work  is  progress- 
ing away  down  in  the  woods.  Brigade  after  brigade 
and  division  after  division  is  hurried  into  line,  and 
pressed  forward  into  action.  Battalions  of  artillery 
open  fire  from  the  crests  of  many  hills,  and  the  battle 
is  begun. 

Ammunition  trains  climb  impassable  places,  cross 
ditches  without  bridges  and  manage  somehow  to 
place  themselves  in  reach  of  the  troops.  Ambu- 
lances, which  an  hour  before  went  gayly  forward, 
now  slowly  and  solemnly  returned  loaded.  Shells 
and  musket-  balls,  which  must  have  lost  their  way, 
go  flitting  about  here  and  there,  wounding  and  killing 
men  who  deem  themselves  far  away  from  danger. 
The  negro  cooks  turn  pale  as  these  unexpected  visit- 
ors enter  the  camps  at  the  rear,  and  the  rear  is  ex- 
tended at  once. 

At  the  front,  a  battery  of  the  enemy  is  replying 
and  shells  are  bursting  overhead,  or  ploughing  huge 
furrows  in  the  ground.     Musket  balls  are  rapping  on 


286  Under  Fire  [No.  75 

the  rims  of  the  wheels  and  sinking  with  a  deep  thud 
into  the  bodies  of  the  poor  horses.  Smoke  obscures 
the  scene,  but  the  cannoneers  in  faint  outline  can  be 
seen  cheerfully  serving  the  guns. 

As  the  opposing  battery  ceases  firing,  and  having 
limbered  up,  scampers  away,  and  the  last  of  the 
enemy's  infantry  slowly  sinks  into  the  woods  out  of 
sight  and  out  of  reach,  a  wild  cheer  breaks  from  the 
cannoneers,  who  toss  their  caps  in  the  air  and  shout, 
shake  hands  and  shout  again,  while  the  curtain  of 
smoke  is  raised  by  the  breeze  and  borne  away. 

The  cavalry  is  gone.  With  jingle  and  clatter  they 
have  passed  through  the  lines  and  down  the  hill  and 
are  already  demanding  surrender  from  many  a  be- 
lated man.  There  will  be  no  rest  for  that  retreating 
column.  Stuart,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  his  lips 
puckered  as  if  to  whistle  a  merry  lay,  is  on  their 
flanks,  in  their  rear,  and  in  their  front.  The  enemy 
will  send  their  cavalry  after  him,  of  course,  but  he 
will  stay  with  them,  nevertheless. 

Add  now  the  streams  of  wounded  men  slowly  mak- 
ing their  way  to  the  rear;  the  groups  of  dejected 
prisoners  plodding  along  under  guard,  and  you  have 
about  as  much  of  a  battle  as  one  private  soldier  ever 
sees. 


75.    The  Cavalry  Charge 

By  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman  (1864) 

Our  good  steeds  snuff  the  evening  air, 
Our  pulses  with  their  purpose  tingle  ; 

The  foeman's  fires  are  twinkling  there ; 
He  leaps  to  hear  our  sabres  jingle  ! 


no.  76]         The  Cavalry  Charge         287 

Halt ! 
Each  carbine  sent  its  whizzing  ball : 
Now,  cling  !  clang  !     Forward,  all, 
Into  the  fight! 

Dash  on  beneath  the  smoking  dome : 

Through  level  lightnings  gallop  nearer ! 
One  look  to  Heaven  !     No  thoughts  of  home  ; 
The  guidons  that  we  bear  are  dearer. 

Charge ! 
Cling  !  clang  !     Forward,  all ! 
Heaven  help  those  whose  horses  fall  — 
Cut  left  and  right ! 

They  flee  before  our  fierce  attack ! 

They  fall !  they  spread  in  broken  surges. 
Now,  comrades,  bear  our  wounded  back, 
And  leave  the  foeman  to  his  dirges. 

Wheel ! 
The  bugles  sound  the  swift  recall : 
Cling  !  clang  !     Backward,  all ! 
Home,  and  good-night ! 


76.    Battle  of  Bull  Run 

By  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman  (1861) 

By  the  time  I  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  the 
retreat,  the  panic,  the  hideous  headlong  confusion, 
were  now  beyond  a  hope.  I  was  near  the  rear  of  the 
movement,  with  the  brave  Captain  Alexander,  who 
endeavored  by  the  most  gallant  but  unavailable  exer- 
tions to  check  the  onward  tumult.     It  was  difficult  to 


288  Under  Fire  [Mo.  76 

The  rout  at     believe  in  the  reality  of  our  sudden  reverse.     "  What 
Bun  Run,        (joes  -t  ajj  mean?"  1  asked  Alexander.     "It  means 
was  due  to      defeat,"    was  his  reply.     "We  are   beaten;   it  is  a 
the  lack  of       shameful,  a  cowardly  retreat!     Hold  up,  men!"  he 
iTciorganka-  shouted,  "don't  be  such  infernal  cowards!"  and  he 
tion;  on  the     rode    backwards    and    forwards,    placing    his    horse 
^oo/tMng    across   tne  road  and  vainly  trying  to  rally  the  run- 
for  the  North,   nhig  troops.     The  teams  and  wagons  confused  and 
for  it  com-      dismembered    every    corps.     We    were    now   cut  off 
Country  to       from  the  advance  body  by  the  enemy's  infantry,  who 
face  the  ne-     had  rushed  on  the  slope  just  left  by  us,  surrounded 
krgeand        tne  guns  and  sutlers'  wagons,  and  were  apparently 
good  armies,    pressing   up  against  us.     "It's  no  use,  Alexander," 
I   said,    "you   must   leave   with   the  rest."     "I'll  be 
d — d  if  I  will,"  was  his  sullen  reply,  and  the  splendid 
fellow  rode  back  to  make  his  way  as  best  he  could. 
Meantime  I  saw  officers  with  leaves  and  eagles  on 
their  shoulder-straps,  majors  and  colonels,  who  had 
deserted  their  commands,  pass  me  galloping  as  if  for 
dear  life.     No  enemy  pursued  just  then ;  but  I  sup- 
pose all  were  afraid  that  his  guns  would  be  trained 
down  the  long,  narrow  avenue,  and  mow  the  retreat- 
ing thousands,  and  batter  to  pieces  army  wagons  and 
everything  else  which  crowded   it.       Only  one  field 
officer,  so  far  as  my  observation  extended,  seemed  to 
have  remembered  his  duty.    Lieut.-Colonel  Speidel,  a 
foreigner  attached  to  a  Connecticut  regiment,  strove 
against  the  current  for  a  league.     I  positively  declare 
that,  with  the  two  exceptions  mentioned,  all  efforts 
made    to   check    the    panic   before    Centreville   was 
reached,  were  confined  to  civilians.     I  saw  a  man  in 
citizen's  dress,  who  had  thrown  off  his  coat,  seized  a 
musket,   and   was   trying  to   rally   the    soldiers   who 
came  by  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet.     In  a  reply  to 


No.  76]  Bull  Run  289 

a  request  for  his  name,  he  said  it  was  Washburne,   E.  b.  Wash- 
and  I  learned  he  was  the  member  by  that  name  from   burne- later 

J  minister  to 

Illinois.    The  Hon.  Mr.  Kellogg  made  a  similar  effort.   France.  Kei- 
Both  these  Congressmen  bravely  stood  their  ground  loggwasa 

...     ,        ,  ,  -ii  /=-.  special  friend 

till  the  last  moment,  and  were  serviceable  at  Centre-  0f  Lincoln. 
ville  in  assisting  the  halt  there  ultimately  made.    And 
other  civilians  did  what  they  could. 

But  what  a  scene !  and  how  terrific  the  onset  of 
that  tumultuous  retreat.  For  three  miles,  hosts  of 
federal  troops  —  all  detached  from  their  regiments, 
all  mingled  in  one  disorderly  rout  —  were  fleeing 
along  the  road,  but  mostly  through  the  lots  on  either 
side.  Army  wagons,  sutlers'  teams,  and  private  car- 
riages, choked  the  passage,  tumbling  against  each 
other,  amid  clouds  of  dust,  and  sickening  sights  and 
sounds.  Hacks,  containing  unlucky  spectators  of  the 
late  affray,  were  smashed  like  glass,  and  the  occu- 
pants were  lost  sight  of  in  the  debris.  Horses,  flying 
wildly  from  the  battle-field,  many  of  them  in  death 
agony,  galloped  at  random  forward,  joining  in  the 
stampede.  Those  on  foot  who  could  catch  them  rode 
them  bare-back,  as  much  to  save  themselves  from  be- 
ing run  over,  as  to  make  quicker  time.  Wounded  men, 
lying  along  the  banks — the  few  neither  left  on  the 
field  nor  taken  to  the  captured  hospitals  —  appealed 
with  raised  hands  to  those  who  rode  horses,  begging 
to  be  lifted  behind,  but  few  regarded  such  petitions. 
Then  the  artillery,  such  as  was  saved,  came  thunder- 
ing along,  smashing  and  overpowering  everything. 
The  regular  cavalry,  I  record  it  to  their  shame,  joined 
in  the  melee,  adding  to  its  terrors,  for  they  rode  down 
footmen  without  mercy.  One  of  the  great  guns  was 
overturned  and  lay  amid  the  ruins  of  a  caisson,  as  I 
passed  it.  I  saw  an  artillery-man  running  between 
u 


2  go  Under  Fire  [No.  76 

the  ponderous  fore  and  after-wheels  of  his  gun-car- 
riage, hanging  on  with  both  hands,  and  vainly  striv- 
ing to  jump  upon  the  ordnance.  The  drivers  were 
spurring  the  horses  ;  he  could  not  cling  much  longer, 
and  a  more  agonized  expression  never  fixed  the  fea- 
tures of  a  drowning  man.  The  carriage  bounded 
from  the  roughness  of  a  steep  hill  leading  to  a  creek, 
he  lost  his  hold,  fell,  and  in  an  instant  the  great  wheels 
had  crushed  the  life  out  of  him.  Who  ever  saw  such 
a  flight?  Could  the  retreat  at  Borodino  have  ex- 
ceeded it  in  confusion  and  tumult  ?  I  think  not.  It 
did  not  slack  in  the  least  until  Centreville  was 
reached.  There  the  sight  of  the  reserve  —  Miles's 
Brigade  —  formed  in  order  on  the  hill,  seemed  some- 
what to  reassure  the  van.  But  still  the  teams  and 
foot  soldiers  pushed  on,  passing  their  own  camps 
and  heading  swiftly  for  the  distant  Potomac,  until  for 
ten  miles  the  road  over  which  the  grand  army  had  so 
lately  passed  southward,  gay  with  unstained  banners, 
and  flushed  with  surety  of  strength,  was  covered  with 
the  fragments  of  its  retreating  forces,  shattered  and 
panic-stricken  in  a  single  day.  From  the  branch 
route  the  trains  attached  to  Hunter's  Division  had 
caught  the  contagion  of  the  flight,  and  poured  into 
its  already  swollen  current  another  turbid  freshet  of 
confusion  and  dismay.  Who  ever  saw  a  more  shame- 
ful abandonment  of  munitions  gathered  at  such  vast 
expense  ?  The  teamsters,  many  of  them,  cut  the 
traces  of  their  horses,  and  galloped  from  the  wagons. 
Others  threw  out  their  loads  to  accelerate  their  flight, 
and  grain,  picks,  and  shovels,  and  provisions  of  every 
kind  lay  trampled  in  the  dust  for  leagues.  Thou- 
sands of  muskets  strewed  the  route,  and  when  some 
of  us  succeeded  in  rallying  a  body  of  fugitives,  and 


no.  77]    Stonewall  Jackson  s  Way     291 

forming  them  in  a  line  across  the  road,  hardly  one 
but  had  thrown  away  his  arms.  If  the  enemy  had 
brought  up  his  artillery  and  served  it  upon  the  re- 
treating train,  or  had  intercepted  our  progress  with 
five  hundred  of  his  cavalry,  he  might  have  captured 
enough  supplies  for  a  week's  feast  of  thanksgiving. 
As  it  was,  enough  was  left  behind  to  tell  the  story 
of  the  panic.  The  rout  of  the  federal  army  seemed 
complete. 


77.    Stonewall  Jackson's  Way 

By  John  Williamson  Palmer  (1862) 


Come,  stack  arms,  men  !     Pile  on  the  rails, 

Stir  up  the  camp-fire  bright ; 
No  matter  if  the  canteen  fails, 

We'll  make  a  roaring  night. 
Here  Shenandoah  brawls  along, 
There  burly  Blue  Ridge  echoes  strong, 
To  swell  the  brigade's  rousing  song 
Of  "  Stonewall  Jackson's  Way." 


For  Stone- 
wall Jackson 
see  note  to 
No.  69, 
above. 


We  see  him  now  —  the  old  slouched  hat 

Cocked  o'er  his  eye  askew, 
The  shrewd,  dry  smile,  the  speech  so  pat, 

So  calm,  so  blunt,  so  true. 
The  "  Blue-Light  Elder"  knows  'em  well; 
Says  he,  "That's  Banks  —  he's  fond  of  shell; 
Lord  save  his  soul !  we'll  give  him "  well, 

That's  "  Stonewall  Jackson's  way." 


"  Blue- 
Light,"  i.e., 
strict  Presby- 
terian.  Jack- 
son was  a 
very  religious 
man. 
General 
Banks,  a 
Union  com- 
mander. 


292.  Under  Fire  [No.  77 

Silence  !  ground  arms  !  kneel  all !  caps  off  ! 

Old  Blue-Light's  going  to  pray. 
Strangle  the  fool  that  dares  to  scoff ! 

Attention  !  it's  his  way. 
Appealing  from  his  native  sod, 
In  forma  pauperis  to  God  — 
"  Lay  bare  thine  arm,  stretch  forth  thy  rod ! 

Amen  !  "     That's  "  Stonewall's  way." 

He's  in  the  saddle  now.     Fall  in  ! 

Steady  !  the  whole  brigade  ! 
Hill's  at  the  ford,  cut  off  —  we'll  win 

His  way  out,  ball  and  blade ! 
What  matter  if  our  shoes  are  worn  ? 
What  matter  if  our  feet  are  torn  ? 
"  Quick-step  !  we're  with  him  before  dawn  !  " 

That's  "  Stonewall  Jackson's  way." 

The  sun's  bright  lances  rout  the  mists 

Of  morning,  and  by  George ! 
Here's  Longstreet  struggling  in  the  lists, 

Hemmed  in  an  ugly  gorge. 
Pope  and  his  Yankees,  whipped  before, 
"  Bay'nets  and  grape  !  "  hear  Stonewall  roar; 
"  Charge,  Stuart !     Pay  off  Ashby's  score  !  " 

Is  "  Stonewall  Jackson's  way." 

Ah !  maiden,  wait  and  watch  and  yearn 

For  news  of  Stonewall's  band  ! 
Ah  !  widow,  read  with  eyes  that  burn 

That  ring  upon  thy  hand. 
Ah  !  wife,  sew  on,  pray  on,  hope  on ! 
Thy  life  shall  not  be  all  forlorn. 
The  foe  had  better  ne'er  been  born 

That  gets  in  "  Stonewall's  way." 


preceded  the 
terrible  battle 


which  1200 
Union  troops 
were  killed 


wounded. 


no.  78]  Bridging  a  River  293 

78.     Bridging   the    Rappahannock 

By  Charles  Carleton  Coffin  (1862) 

At  five    o'clock  on  the  morning   of    the    nth    of  This  episode 
December  two  signal-guns  were  fired  on  the  heights 
of  Fredericksburg.     Deep  and  heavy  their  roar,  roll-  of  Freder 
ing  along  the  valley,  echoing  from  hill  to  hill,  and   icksburg, 
rousing  the  sleepers  of  both  armies.     We  who  listened   x 3^862 ,7n 
upon  the  Falmouth  hills  knew  that  the  crossing  was 
not  a  surprise,  but  that  the  Rebels  were  ready  for 
battle.     And  now  as  the  day  dawned  there  came  a  and  9600 
rattling   of    musketry  along   the   river.     The    Rebel 
pickets  opened  the  fire.     The  gunners  at  the  batteries 
were  quick  to  respond,  and  sent  grape  and  canister 
across  the  stream.     The  Rebel  pickets  at  the  lower 
bridges    soon    retired,  and  the  engineers    completed 
their  work.     But  in  the  town  the  Mississippians  took 
shelter  in  the  buildings,  and  poured  a  deadly  fire  upon 
the  bridge-builders.       Almost  every  soldier  who    at- 
tempted to  carry  out  a  plank  fell.     For  a  while  the 
attempt  was  relinquished. 

"The  bridge  must  be  completed,"  said  General 
Burnside. 

Once  more  the  brave  engineers  attempted  it.  The 
fog  still  hung  over  the  river.  Those  who  stood  on 
the  northern  bank  could  only  see  the  flashes  of  the 
rifles  on  the  other  shore.  The  gunners  were  obliged 
to  fire  at  random,  but  so  energetic  was  their  fire  that 
the  engineers  were  able  to  carry  the  bridge  within 
eighty  or  ninety  feet  of  the  shore,  and  then  so  deadly 
in  turn  was  the  fire  of  the  Rebels  that  it  was  murder 
to  send  men  out  with  a  plank. 

General  Burnside  stood  on  the  piazza  of  the  Phillips 


294  Under  Fire  [No.  7s 

House,  a  mile  from  the  pontoons.  General  Sumner 
and  General  Hooker  were  there.  Aids  and  couriers 
came  and  went  with  messages  and  orders. 

"  My  bridge  is  completed,  and  I  am  ready  to  cross," 
was  Franklin's  message  at  half-past  nine. 

"  You  must  wait  till  the  upper  bridge  is  completed," 
was  the  reply  to  Franklin. 

Two  hours  passed.  A  half-dozen  attempts  were 
made  to  complete  the  upper  bridge  without  success. 
Brave  men  not  belonging  to  the  engineers  came  down 
to  the  bank,  surveyed  the  scene,  and  then  volunteer- 
ing their  services,  seized  planks  and  boards,  ran  out 
upon  the  bridge,  but  only  to  fall  before  the  sharp- 
shooters concealed  in  the  cellars  of  the  houses  not  ten 
rods  distant.  Captain  Brainard  of  the  Fiftieth  New 
York,  with  eleven  men,  volunteered  to  finish  the 
nearly  completed  work.  They  went  out  upon  the 
run.  Five  fell  at  one  volley,  and  the  rest  returned. 
Captain  Perkins  of  the  same  regiment  led  another 
party.  He  fell  with  a  ghastly  wound  in  his  neck. 
Half  of  his  men  were  killed  or  wounded.  These  were 
sacrifices  of  life  with  nothing  gained. 

General  Burnside  had  no  desire  to  injure  the  town, 
but  under  the  usages  of  war  he  had  a  right  to  bom- 
bard it ;  for  the  Rebels  had  concealed  themselves  in 
the  houses,  making  use  of  them  to  slaughter  his  men. 

"  Bring  all  your  guns  to  bear  upon  the  city  and 
batter  it  down,"  was  the  order  issued  to  General  Hunt, 
chief  of  artillery.  There  were  in  all  thirty-five  batter- 
ies, with  a  total  of  one  hundred  and  seventy-nine  guns, 
all  bearing  upon  the  town.  The  artillerymen  received 
the  orders  to  prepare  for  action  with  a  hurrah.  They 
had  chafed  all  the  morning,  and  longed  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  avenge  the  death  of  their  gallant  comrades. 


no. 78]  Bridging  a  River  295 

The  hour  had  come.  They  sprang  to  their  pieces. 
The  fire  ran  from  the  right  to  the  left,  —  from  the 
heavy  twenty-four-pounders  on  the  heights  of  Fal- 
mouth to  the  smaller  pieces  on  the  hills  where  Wash- 
ington passed  his  boyhood.  The  air  became  thick 
with  the    murky  clouds.     The  earth  shook  beneath 


A   PONTOON    BRIDGE. 


the  terrific  explosions  of  the  shells,  which  went  howl- 
ing over  the  river,  crashing  into  the  houses,  battering 
down  walls,  splintering  doors,  ripping  up  floors. 
Sixty  solid  shot  and  shells  a  minute  were  thrown,  and 
the  bombardment  was  kept  up  till  nine  thousand  were 
fired.  No  hot  shot  were  used,  but  the  explosions  set 
fire  to  a  block  of  buildings,  which  added  terrible 
grandeur  to  the  scene. 


296 


Under  Fire  [No.  7s 


The  Rebel  army  stood  upon  the  heights  beyond  the 
town  and  watched  the  operations.  Lee's  Rebel  artil- 
lery was  silent,  and  the  Mississippians  concealed  in 
the  houses  were  alone  participants  in  the  contest. 

The  fog  lifted  at  last  and  revealed  the  town.  The 
streets  were  deserted,  but  the  houses,  the  church- 
steeples,  the  stores  were  riddled  with  shot ;  yet  no 
Impression  had  been  made  on  the  Mississippians. 

Burnside's  artillerymen  could  not  depress  their 
guns  sufficiently  to  shell  them  out.  A  working  party 
went  out  upon  the  bridge,  but  one  after  another  was 
killed  or  wounded. 

The  time  had  come  for  a  bold  movement.  It  was 
plain  that  the  Mississippians  must  be  driven  out  be- 
fore the  bridge  could  be  completed,  and  that  a  party 
must  go  over  in  boats,  charge  up  the  hill,  and  rout 
them  from  their  hiding-places.  Who  would  go  ? 
Who  attempt  the  hazardous  enterprise  ?  There  were 
brave  men  standing  on  the  bank  by  the  Lacey  House, 
who  had  watched  the  proceedings  during  the  long 
hours.  They  were  accustomed  to  hard  fighting  :  they 
had  fought  at  Fair  Oaks,  Savage  Station,  Glendale, 
Malvern,  and  Antietam. 

"  We  will  go  over  and  clean  out  the  Rebels,"  was 
the  cry  of  the  Twentieth  Massachusetts. 

"You  shall  have  the  privilege  of  doing  so,"  said 
General  Burnside. 

There  were  not  boats  enough  for  all,  —  not  enough 
for  one  regiment  even.  A  portion  of  the  Seventh 
Michigan  was  selected  to  go  first,  while  the  other 
regiments  stood  as  a  supporting  force. 

The  men  run  down  the  winding  path  to  the  water's 
edge,  jump  into  the  boats,  and  push  out  into  the 
stream.     It  is  a  moment  of  intense  anxiety.     No  one 


no.  78]  Bridging  a  River  297 

knows  how  large  the  force  opposing  them.  The 
Rebel  sharpshooters  are  watching  the  movement 
from  their  hiding-places.  They  have  a  fair  view  and 
can  pick  their  men.  The  men  in  the  boats  know  it, 
yet  they  move"  steadily  onward,  steering  straight 
across  the  stream,  without  a  thought  of  turning  back, 
though  their  comrades  are  falling,  —  some  headlong 
into  the  river,  others  dropping  into  the  boats.  The 
oarsmen  pull  with  rapid  strokes.  When  one  falls 
another  takes  his  place.  Two  thirds  the  distance 
over,  —  the  boats  ground  in  shoal  water.  The  sol- 
diers wait  for  no  word  of  command,  but  with  a  com- 
mon impulse,  with  an  ardor  which  stops  not  to  count 
the  cost,  they  leap  into  the  water,  wade  to  the  shore, 
and  charge  up  the  bank.  Some  fall  to  rise  no  more, 
but  their  surviving  comrades  rush  up  the  slippery 
slope.  A  loud  hurrah  rings  out  from  the  soldiers 
who  watch  them  from  the  Falmouth  shore.  Up,  up 
they  go,  facing  death,  firing  not,  intent  only  to  get  at 
the  foe  and  win  victory  with  the  bayonet !  They 
smash  the  windows,  batter  down  doors,  driving  or 
capturing  the  foe. 

Loud  and  hearty  the  cheers  of  the  regiments  upon 
the  other  shore.  The  men  of  the  Nineteenth  and 
Twentieth  Massachusetts  would  give  anything  to  be 
there.  All  the  while  the  cannon  are  roaring,  hurling 
solid  shot  and  shell  into  the  doomed  city. 

When  the  bridge-builders  saw  the  soldiers  charge 
up  the  hill,  they  too  caught  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
moment,  and  finished  their  work.  The  other  regi- 
ments of  the  brigade,  before  the  last  planks  were  laid, 
rushed  down  the  bank,  ran  out  upon  the  bridge, 
dashed  up  the  bank,  joined  their  comrades,  and  drove 
the  Rebels  from  the  streets  nearest  the  river. 


298 


Under  Fire  [No.  7» 


History  furnishes  but  few  records  of  more  daring 
exploits  than  this  action  of  the  Seventh  Michigan. 
Their  work  was  thorough  and  complete.  In  fifteen 
minutes  they  cleared  the  houses  in  front  of  them,  and 
took  more  prisoners  than  their  own  party  numbered ! 

But  now  the  Yankees  were  there,  marching  through 
the  streets.  The  houses  were  battered,  torn,  and 
rent.  Some  were  in  flames,  and  a  battle  was  raging 
through  the  town. 

As  soon  as  the  bridge  was  completed,  the  other 
brigades  of  General  Howard's  division  moved  across 
the  river.  The  Rebel  batteries,  which  till  now  had 
kept  silence,  opened  furiously  with  solid  shot  and 
shell,  but  the  troops  moved  steadily  over,  and  took 
shelter  along  the  river  bank.  The  Rebels  were  fall- 
ing back  from  street  to  street,  and  the  men  from 
Michigan  and  Massachusetts  were  pressing  on. 

I  stood  upon  the  bank  of  the  river  and  watched  the 
scene  in  the  deepening  twilight.  Far  up  the  streets 
there  were  bright  flashes  from  the  muskets  of  the 
Rebels,  who  fired  from  cellars,  chamber  windows,  and 
from  sheltered  places.  Nearer  were  dark  masses  of 
men  in  blue,  who  gave  quick  volleys  as  they  moved 
steadily  on,  demolishing  doors,  crushing  in  windows, 
and  searching  every  hiding-place.  Cannon  were 
flaming  on  all  the  hills,  and  the  whole  country  was 
aglow  with  the  camp-fires  of  the  two  great  armies. 
The  Stafford  hills  were  alive  with  men,  —  regiments, 
brigades,  and  divisions  moving  in  column  from  their 
encampments  to  cross  the  river.  The  sky  was  with- 
out a  cloud.  The  town  was  lighted  by  lurid  flames. 
The  air  was  full  of  hissings,  —  the  sharp  cutting 
sounds  of  the  leaden  rain.  The  great  twenty-pounder 
guns  on  the  heights  of  Falmouth  were  roaring  the 


no.  79]  Cavalry  Raid  299 

while.  There  were  shouts,  hurrahs,  yells,  and  groans 
from  the  streets.  So  the  fight  went  on  till  the  Rebels 
were  driven  wholly  from  the  town  to  their  intrench- 
ments  beyond. 


79.    A  Cavalry  Raid 

By  John  Esten  Cooke  (1862) 

The  order  was  given,  in  ringing  voice  :  "  Form 
fours!  draw  sabre!  charge!"  and  now  the  Confed- 
erate people  pursued  at  headlong  speed,  uttering 
shouts  and  yells  sufficiently  loud  to  awaken  the 
seven  sleepers !  The  men  were  evidently  exhilarated 
by  the  chase,  the  enemy  just  keeping  near  enough 
to  make  an  occasional  shot  practicable.  A  consider- 
able number  of  the  Federal  cavalrymen  were  over- 
taken and  captured,  and  these  proved  to  belong  to 
the  company  in  which  Colonel  Fitz  Lee  had  formerly 
been  a  lieutenant. 

The  gay  chase  continued  until  we  reached  the 
Tottapotamoi,  a  sluggish  stream,  dragging  its  muddy 
waters  slowly  between  rush-clad  banks,  beneath  droop- 
ing trees  ;  and  this  was  crossed  by  a  small  rustic  bridge. 
The  line  of  the  stream  was  entirely  undefended  by 
works ;  the  enemy's  right  wing  was  unprotected.  The 
picket  at  the  bridge  had  been  quickly  driven  in,  and 
disappeared  at  a  gallop,  and  on  the  high  ground 
beyond,  Colonel  Lee,  who  had  taken  the  front, 
encountered  the  enemy.  The  force  appeared  to  be 
about  a  regiment,  and  they  were  drawn  up  in  line 
of  battle  in  the  fields  to  receive  our  attack.  It 
came  without  delay.  Placing  himself  at  the  head  of 
his   horsemen,   Colonel    Lee    swept   forward    at   the 


300  Under  Fire  [No.  79 

pas  de  charge,  and  with  shouts  the  two  lines  came 
together.  The  shock  was  heavy,  and  the  enemy 
stood  their  ground  bravely,  meeting  the  attack  with 
the  sabre.  Swords  clashed,  pistols  and  carbines 
banged,  yells,  shouts,  cheers  resounded ;  then  the 
Federal  line  was  seen  to  give  back,  and  take  to 
headlong  flight. 

Fitz  Lee  immediately  pressed  on  and  burst  into  the 
camp  near  Old  Church,  where  large  supplies  of  boots, 
pistols,  liquors,  and  other  commodities  were  found. 
These  were  speedily  appropriated  by  the  men,  and 
the  tents  were  set  on  fire  amid  loud  shouts.  The 
spectacle  was  animating;  but  a  report  having  got 
abroad  that  one  of  the  tents  contained  powder,  the 
vicinity  thereof  was  evacuated  in  almost  less  than  no 
time.     We  were  now  at  Old  Church. 

"  I  think  the  quicker  we  move  now  the  better,"  I 
said,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Right,"  was  the  reply ;  "tell  the  column  to  move 
on  at  a  trot." 

So  at  a  rapid  trot  the  column  moved. 

The  gayest  portion  of  the  raid  now  began.  From 
this  moment  it  was  neck  or  nothing,  do  or  die.  We 
had  one  chance  of  escape  against  ten  of  capture  or 
destruction. 

Everywhere  the  ride  was  crowded  with  incident. 
The  scouting  and  flanking  parties  constantly  picked 
up  stragglers,  and  overhauled  unsuspecting  wagons 
filled  with  the  most  tempting  stores.  In  this  manner 
a  wagon,  stocked  with  champagne  and  every  variety 
of  wines,  belonging  to  a  General  of  the  Federal  army, 
fell  a  prey  to  the  thirsty  gray-backs.  Still  they  pressed 
on.  Every  moment  an  attack  was  expected  in  front 
or  rear. 


no.  79]  Cavalry  Raid  301 

The  column  was  now  skirting  the  Pamunkey,  and  a 
detachment  hurried  off  to  seize  and  burn  two  or  three 
transports  lying  in  the  river.  Soon  a  dense  cloud  rose 
from  them,  the  flames  soared  up,  and  the  column 
pushed  on.  Everywhere  were  seen  the  traces  of  flight 
—  for  the  alarm  of  "hornets  in  the  hive  "  was  given. 
Wagons  had  turned  over,  and  were  abandoned  —  from 
others  the  excellent  army  stores  had  been  hastily 
thrown.  This  writer  got  a  fine  red  blanket,  and  an 
excellent  pair  of  cavalry  pantaloons,  for  which  he  still 
owes  the  United  States.  Other  things  lay  about  in 
tempting  array,  but  we  were  approaching  Tunstall's, 
where  the  column  would  doubtless  make  a  charge ; 
and  to  load  down  a  weary  horse  was  injudicious. 
The  advance  guard  was  now  in  sight  of  the  railroad. 
There  was  no  question  about  the  affair  before  us. 
The  column  must  cut  through,  whatever  force  guarded 
the  railroad ;  to  reach  the  lower  Chickahominy  the 
guard  here  must  be  overpowered.  Now  was  the  time 
to  use  the  artillery,  and  every  effort  was  made  to  hurry 
it  forward. 

Turnstall's  was  now  nearly  in  sight,  and  that  good 
fellow  Captain  Frayser,  came  back  and  reported  one 
or  two  companies  of  infantry  at  the  railroad.  Their 
commander  had  politely  beckoned  to  him  as  he  re- 
connoitred, exclaiming  in  wheedling  accents,  full  of 
Teutonic  blandishment,  "  Koom  yay  !  "  But  this 
cordial  invitation  was  disregarded ;  Frayser  galloped 
back  and  reported,  and  the  ringing  voice  of  the  leader 
ordered  "  Form  platoons !  draw  sabre  !  charge  !  "  At 
the  word  the  sabres  flashed,  a  thundering  shout  arose, 
and  sweeping  on  in  column  of  platoons,  the  gray 
people  fell  upon  their  blue  adversaries,  gobbling 
them  up,  almost  without  a  shot.     It  was  here  that 


302  Under  Fire  [No. 79 

my  friend  Major  Foote  got  the  hideous  little  wooden 
pipe  he  used  to  smoke  afterwards.  He  had  been 
smoking  a  meerschaum  when  the  order  to  charge 
was  given;  and  in  the  rush  of  the  horsemen,  dropped 
and  lost  it.  He  now  wished  to  smoke,  and  seeing 
that  the  captain  of  the  Federal  infantry  had  just 
filled  his  pipe,  leaned  down  from  the  saddle,  and 
politely  requested  him  to  surrender  it. 

"  I  want  to  smoke !  "  growled  the  Federal  captain. 

"  So  do  I,"  retorted  Major  Foote. 

"  This  pipe  is  my  property,"  said  the  captain. 

"  Oh  !  what  a  mistake  !  "  responded  the  major  po- 
litely, as  he  gently  took  the  small  affair  and  inserted 
it  between  his  lips.  Anything  more  hideous  than  the 
carved  head  upon  it  I  never  saw. 

In  an  hour  the  column  moved  again.  Meanwhile 
a  little  incident  had  happened  which  still  makes  me 
laugh.  There  was  a  lady  living  some  miles  off  in  the 
enemy's  line  whom  I  wished  to  visit,  but  I  could  not 
obtain  the  General's  consent.  "  It  is  certain  cap- 
ture," he  said  ;  "  send  her  a  note  by  some  citizen,  say 
Dr.  Hunt;  he  lives  near  here."  This  I  determined 
to  do,  and  set  off  at  a  gallop  through  the  moonlight 
for  the  house,  some  half  a  mile  distant,  looking  out 
for  the  scouting  parties  which  were  probably  prowling 
on  our  flanks.  Reaching  the  lonely  house,  outside 
the  pickets,  I  dismounted,  knocked  at  the  front  door, 
then  the  back,  but  received  no  answer.  All  at  once, 
however,  a  dark  figure  was  seen  gliding  beneath  the 
trees,  and  this  figure  cautiously  approached.  I  rec- 
ognised the  Doctor,  and  called  to  him,  whereupon 
he  quickly  approached,  and  said,  "  I  thought  you  were 
a  Yankee  !  "  and  greeting  me  cordially,  led  the  way 
into  the  house.     Here  I  wrote  my  note  and  entrusted 


no.  79]  Cavalry  Raid  303 

it  to  him  for  delivery  —  taking  one  from  him  to  his  wife, 
within  our  lines.  In  half  an  hour  I  rode  away,  but 
before  doing  so  asked  for  some  water,  which  was 
brought  from  the  well  by  a  sleepy,  sullen,  and  insolent 
negro.  This  incident  was  fruitful  of  woes  to  Dr. 
Hunt !  A  month  or  two  afterwards  I  met  him  looking 
as  thin  and  white  as  a  ghost. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  I  said. 

"The  matter  is,"  he  replied,  with  a  melancholy 
laugh,  "  that  I  have  been  starving  for  three  weeks  in 
Fortress  Monroe  on  your  account.  Do  you  remember 
that  servant  who  brought  you  the  water  that  night  of 
the  raid  ? " 

"  Perfectly." 

"  Well,  the  very  next  day  he  went  over  to  the  Yan- 
kee picket  and  told  them  that  I  had  entertained  Con- 
federate officers,  and  given  you  all  information  which 
enable  you  to  get  off  safely.  In  consequence  I  was 
arrested,  carried  to  Old  Point,  and  am  just  out!  " 

At  the  first  streak  of  dawn  the  Chickahominy  was 
in  sight,  and  we  were  spurring  forward  to  the  ford. 

It  was  impassable  !  The  heavy  rains  had  so  swollen 
the  waters  that  the  crossing  was  utterly  impracti- 
cable !  Here  we  were  within  a  few  miles  of  an  en- 
raged enemy  with  a  swollen  and  impassable  stream 
directly  in  our  front  —  the  angry  waters  roaring 
around  the  half-submerged  trunks  of  the  trees  —  and 
expecting  every  instant  to  hear  the  crack  of  carbines 
from  the  rear-guard  indicating  the  enemy's  approach  ! 
The  situation  was  not  pleasing.  I  certainly  thought 
that  the  enemy  would  be  upon  us  in  about  an  hour, 
and  death  or  capture  would  be  the  sure  alternative. 
This  view  was  general. 

The  scene  upon  the  river's  bank  was  curious,  and 


3°4 


Under  Fire  [No.  79 


under  other  circumstances  would  have  been  laughable. 
The  men  lay  about  in  every  attitude,  half-overcome 
with  sleep,  but  holding  their  bridles,  and  ready  to 
mount  at  the  first  alarm.  Others  sat  their  horses  asleep, 
with  drooping  shoulders.  Some  gnawed  crackers ; 
others  ate  figs,  or  smoked,  or  yawned.  Things  looked 
blue,  and  that  colour  was  figuratively  spread  over  every 
countenauce. 

The  column  was  ordered  to  move  on  down  the 
stream  to  a  spot  where  an  old  bridge  had  formerly 
stood.  Reaching  this  point,  a  strong  rear-guard  was 
thrown  out,  the  artillery  placed  in  position,  and  we 
set  to  work  vigorously  to  rebuild  the  bridge,  determined 
to  bring  out  the  guns  or  die  trying. 

The  bridge  had  been  destroyed,  but  the  stone  abut- 
ments remained  some  thirty  or  forty  feet  only  apart, 
for  the  river  here  ran  deep  and  narrow  between  steep 
banks.  Between  these  stone  sentinels,  facing  each 
other,  was  an  "  aching  void  "  which  it  was  necessary  to 
fill.  A  skiff  was  procured;  this  was  affixed  by  a  rope 
to  a  tree,  in  the  mid-current  just  above  the  abutments, 
and  thus  a  movable  pier  was  secured  in  the  middle 
of  the  stream.  An  old  barn  was  then  hastily  torn  to 
pieces  and  robbed  of  its  timbers ;  these  were  stretched 
down  to  the  boat,  and  up  to  the  opposite  abutment, 
and  a  footbridge  was  thus  ready.  Large  numbers  of 
the  men  immediately  unsaddled  their  horses,  took 
their  equipments  over,  and  then  returning,  drove  or 
rode  their  horses  into  the  stream,  and  swam  them 
over.  In  this  manner  a  considerable  number  crossed; 
but  the  process  was  much  too  slow.  There,  besides, 
was  the  artillery,  which  we  had  no  intention  of 
leaving.  A  regular  bridge  must  be  built  without  a 
moment's  delay. 


No.  79] 


Cavalry  Raid 


305 


Heavier  blows  resounded  from  the  old  barn  ;  huge 
timbers  approached,  borne  on  brawny  soldiers,  and 
descending  into  the  boat  anchored  in  the  middle  of 
the  stream,  the  men  lifted  them  across.  They  were 
just  long  enough  ;  the  ends  rested  on  the  abutments, 
and  immediately  thick  planks  were  hurried  forward 


A    MILITARY    BRIDGE. 


and  laid  crosswise,  forming  a  secure  footway  for  the 
cavalry  and  artillery  horses. 

At  last  the  bridge  was  finished;  the  artillery  crossed 
amid  hurrahs  from  the  men,  and  then  the  General 
slowly  moved  his  cavalry  across  the  shaky  footway. 
A  little  beyond  was  another  arm  of  the  river,  which 
was,  however,  fordable,  as  I  ascertained  and  reported 
to  the  General ;  the  water  just  deep  enough  to  swim 
a  small  horse ;  and  through  this,  as  through  the 
x 


306 


Under  Fire  [No.  so 


interminable  sloughs  of  the  swamp  beyond,  the  head 
of  the  column  moved.  The  prisoners,  who  were 
numerous,  had  been  marched  over  in  advance  of 
everything,  and  these  were  now  mounted  on  mules, 
of  which  several  hundred  had  been  cut  from  the  cap- 
tured wagons  and  brought  along.  They  were  started 
under  an  escort  across  the  ford,  and  into  the  swamp 
beyond.  Here,  mounted  often  two  on  a  mule,  they 
had  a  disagreeable  time  ;  the  mules  constantly  falling 
in  the  treacherous  mud-holes,  and  rolling  their  riders 
in  the  ooze.  When  a  third  swamp  appeared  before 
them,  one  of  the  Federal  prisoners  exclaimed,  with 
tremendous  indignation,  "  How  many  Chicken-homi- 
nies are  there,  I  wonder,  in  this  infernal  country !  " 

The  gentlemen  of  the  county,  we  afterwards  heard, 
had  been  electrified  by  the  rumour  that  "  Stuart  was 
down  at  the  river  trying  to  get  across,"  and  had 
built  a  hasty  bridge  for  us  lower  down.  We  were 
over,  however,  and  reaching  Mr.  Cutter's,  the  Gen- 
eral and  his  staff  lay  down  on  a  carpet  spread  on  the 
grass  in  the  June  sunshine,  and  went  to  sleep.  This 
was  Sunday.  I  had  not  slept  since  Friday  night, 
except  by  snatches  in  the  saddle,  and  in  going  on  to 
Richmond  afterwards  fell  asleep  every  few  minutes 
on  horseback. 


80.    On   the    Firing   Line 

By  James  Kendall  Hosmer  (1863) 

This  was  on         We  have  had  a  battle.     Not  quite  a  week  ago  we 

the  lower        began  to  hear  of  it.     We  knew  nothing  certain,  how- 

Rivei\SiPPl      ever,  until  Saturday.     (It  is  now  Tuesday.)     Toward 

the  end  of  that  afternoon,  the  explicit  orders  came. 


no. so]  The  Firing  Line  307 

The  assault  was  to  be  made  the  next  morning,  and 
our  regiment  was  to  have  a  share  in  it.  We  were 
not  to  go  home  without  the  baptism  of  fire  and  blood. 

Before  dark,  we  were  ordered  into  line,  and  stacked 
our  arms.  Each  captain  made  a  little  speech.  "  No 
talking  in  the  ranks ;  no  flinching.  Let  every  one 
see  that  his  canteen  is  full,  and  that  he  has  hard  bread 
enough  for  a  day.  That  is  all  you  will  carry  beside 
gun  and  equipments."  We  left  the  guns  in  stack, 
polished,  and  ready  to  be  caught  on  the  instant ;  and 
lay  down  under  the  trees.  At  midnight  came  the 
cooks  with  coffee  and  warm  food.  Soon  after  came 
the  order  to  move  ;  then,  slowly  and  with  many  halts, 
nearly  four  hundred  strong,  we  took  up  our  route 
along  the  wood-paths.  Many  other  regiments  were 
also  in  motion.  The  forest  was  full  of  Rembrandt 
pictures,  —  a  bright  blaze  under  a  tree,  the  faces  and 
arms  of  soldiers  all  aglow  about  it ;  the  wheel  of  an 
army-wagon,  or  the  brass  of  a  cannon,  lit  up  ;  then 
the  gloom  of  the  wood,  and  the  night  shutting  down 
about  it. 

At  length,  it  was  daybreak.  We  were  now  only 
screened  from  the  rebel  works  by  a  thin  hedge.  Here 
the  rifle-balls  began  to  cut  keen  and  sharp  through 
the  air  about  us ;  and  the  cannonade,  as  the  east  now 
began  to  redden,  reached  its  height, — a  continual 
deafening  uproar,  hurling  the  air  against  one  in  great 
waves,  till  it  felt  almost  like  a  wall  of  rubber,  bound- 
ing and  rebounding  from  the  body,  —  the  great  guns 
of  the  "  Richmond,"  the  siege-Parrotts,  the  smaller 
field-batteries  ;  and,  through  all,  the  bursting  of  the 
shells  within  the  rebel  lines,  and  the  keen,  deadly 
whistle  of  well-aimed  bullets.  A  few  rods  down  the 
military  road,  the  column  paused.     The  banks  of  the 


3o8 


Under  Fire  [No.  so 


ravine  rose  on  either  side  of  the  road  in  which  we 
had  halted:  but  just  here  the  trench  made  a  turn; 
and  in  front,  at  the  distance  of  five  or  six  hundred 
yards,  we  could  plainly  see  the  rebel  rampart,  red  in 
the  morning-light  as  with  blood,  and  shrouded  in 
white  vapor  along  the  edge  as  the  sharpshooters 
behind  kept  up  an  incessant  discharge.  I  believe  I 
felt  no  sensation  of  fear,  nor  do  I  think  those  about 
me  did. 

We  climb  up  the  path.  I  go  with  my  rifle  between 
Wilson  and  Hardiker;  keeping  nearest  the  former, 
who  carries  the  national  flag.  In  a  minute  or  two, 
the  column  has  ascended,  and  is  deploying  in  a  long 
line,  under  the  colonel's  eye,  on  the  open  ground. 
The  rebel  engineers  are  most  skilful  fellows.  Be- 
tween us  and  the  brown  earth-heap  which  we  are  to 
try  to  gain  to-day,  the  space  is  not  wide ;  but  it  is 
cut  up  in  every  direction  with  ravines  -and  gullies. 
These  were  covered,  until  the  parapet  was  raised,  with 
a  heavy  growth  of  timber;  but  now  it  has  all  been 
cut  down,  so  that  in  every  direction  the  fallen  tops  of 
large  trees  interlace,  trunks  block  up  every  passage, 
and  brambles  are  growing  over  the  whole.  It  is  out 
of  the  question  to  advance  here  in  line  of  battle ;  it 
seems  almost  out  of  the  question  to  advance  in  any 
order :  but  the  word  is  given,  "  Forward !  "  and  on 
we  go.  Know  that  this  whole  space  is  swept  by  a 
constant  patter  of  balls  :  it  is  really  a  leaden  rain. 
We  go  crawling  and  stooping :  but  now  and  then 
before  us  rises  in  plain  view  the  line  of  earth-works, 
smoky  and  sulphurous  with  volleys  ;  while  all  about 
us  fall  the  balls,  now  sending  a  lot  of  little  splinters 
from  a  stump,  now  knocking  the  dead  wood  out  of  the 
old  tree-trunk  that  is  sheltering  me,  now  driving  up  a 


no.  so]  The  Firing  Line  309 

cloud  of  dust  from  a  little  knoll,  or  cutting  off  the 
head  of  a  weed  just  under  the  hand  as  with  an  invisi- 
ble knife.  "  Forward  !  "  is  the  order.  We  all  stoop  ; 
but  the  colonel  does  not  stoop  :  he  is  as  cool  as  he 
was  in  his  tent  last  night,  when  I  saw  him  drink  iced 
lemonade.  He  turns  now  to  examine  the  ground, 
then  faces  back  again  to  direct  the  advance  of  this  or 
that  flank.  Wilson  springs  on  from  cover  to  cover, 
and  I  follow  close  after  him.  It  is  hard  work  to  get 
the  flag  along ;  it  cannot  be  carried  in  the  air ;  and 
we  drag  it  and  pass  it  from  hand  to  hand  among 
the  brambles,  much  to  the  detriment  of  its  folds. 
The  line  pauses  a  moment.  Captain  Morton,  who 
has  risen  from  a  sick-bed  to  be  with  his  command,  is 
coolly  cautioning  his  company.  The  right  wing  is 
to  remain  in  reserve,  while  the  left  pushes  still  farther 
forward.  The  major  is  out  in  front  of  us  now.  He 
stands  upon  a  log  which  bridges  a  ravine,  —  a  plain 
mark  for  the  sharpshooters,  who  overlook  the  posi- 
tion, not  only  from  the  parapet,  but  from  the  tall 
trees  within  the  rebel  works.  Presently  we  move  on 
again,  through  brambles  and  under  charred  trunks, 
tearing  our  way,  and  pulling  after  us  the  colors; 
creeping  on  our  bellies  across  exposed  ridges,  where 
bullets  hum  and  sing  like  stinging  bees  ;  and,  right  in 
plain  view,  the  ridge  of  earth,  its  brow  white  with 
incessant  volleys. 

Down  into  our  little  nook  now  come  tumbling  a 
crowd  of  disorganized,  panting  men.  They  are  part 
of  a  New  York  regiment,  who,  on  the  crest  just  over 
us,  have  been  meeting  with  very  severe  loss.  They 
say  their  dead  and  dying  are  heaped  up  there.  We 
believe  it ;  for  we  can  hear  them,  they  are  so  near : 
indeed,  some  of  those  who  come  tumbling  down  are 


3  i  o  Under  Fire  [No.  so 

wounded  ;  some  have  their  gun-stocks  broken  by  shot, 
and  the  barrels  bent,  while  they  are  unharmed.  They 
are  frightened  and  exhausted,  and  stop  to  recover 
themselves  ;  but  presently  their  officers  come  up,  and 
order  them  forward  again.  From  time  to  time,  after- 
wards, wounded  men  crawl  back  from  their  position 
a  few  yards  in  front  of  where  we  are. 

We  begin  to  know  that  the  attack  has  failed.  We 
know  nothing  certainly.  There  are  rumors,  thick  as 
the  rifle-balls,  of  this  general  killed,  that  regiment  de- 
stroyed, and  successful  attempts  elsewhere.  The  sun 
goes  down  on  this  day  of  blood.  We  have  lost  sev- 
eral killed,  and  several  more  wounded,  and  have  done 
all  we  were  called  upon  to  do.  The  colonel  tells  us 
we  have  been  cool,  prudent,  and  brave.  We  have 
not  been  as  much  exposed  as  some  other  regiments, 
and  our  loss  has  not  been  large.  The  fire,  however, 
seemed  very  hot,  and  close  at  hand ;  and  the  wonder 
to  us  all  is,  that  no  more  fell.  Darkness  settles  down  ; 
shots  are  received  and  returned,  but  only  at  random 
now,  and,  ever  and  anon,  from  the  batteries  goes  tear- 
ing through  the  air  a  monstrous  shell,  with  a  roar 
like  a  rushing  railroad-train,  then  an  explosion  put- 
ting every  thing  for  the  moment  in  light. 

At  dusk,  I  creep  back  to  the  ravine,  where  I  am 
to  sleep.  For  food  to-day,  I  have  had  two  or  three 
hard  crackers  and  cold  potatoes.  We  have  no  blank- 
ets :  so  down  I  lie  to  sleep  as  I  can  on  the  earth, 
without  covering;  and,  before  morning,  am  chilled 
through  with  the  dew  and  coldness  of  the  air. 


no.  81]  Keen  an  s  Charge  311 

81.     Keenan's    Charge 

By  George  Parsons  Lathrop  (1863) 

By  the  shrouded  gleam  of  the  western  skies,  At  the  battle 

Brave  Keenan  looked  in  Pleasonton's  eyes  ofChancei- 

_  •  1  i  -i  1      -mi  lorsville, 

For  an  instant  —  clear,  and  cool,  and  still ;  l862# 

Then,  with  a  smile,  he  said:  "  I  will." 

"  Cavalry,  charge  !  "     Not  a  man  of  them  shrank. 

Their  sharp,  full  cheer,  from  rank  on  rank, 

Rose  joyously,  with  a  willing  breath  — 

Rose  like  a  greeting  hail  to  death. 

Then  forward  they  sprang,  and  spurred  and  clashed ; 

Shouted  the  officers,  crimson-sashed  ; 

Rode  well  the  men,  each  brave  as  his  fellow, 

In  their  faded  coats  of  the  blue  and  yellow ; 

And  above  in  the  air,  with  an  instinct  true, 

Like  a  bird  of  war  their  pennon  flew. 

With  clank  of  scabbards  and  thunder  of  steeds, 
And  blades  that  shine  like  sunlit  reeds, 
And  strong  brown  faces  bravely  pale 
For  fear  their  proud  attempt  shall  fail, 
Three  hundred  Pennsylvanians  close 
On  twice  ten  thousand  gallant  foes. 

Line  after  line  the  troopers  came 

To  the  edge  of  the  wood  that  was  ringed  with  flame ; 

Rode  in  and  sabred  and  shot  —  and  fell ; 

Nor  came  one  back  his  wounds  to  tell. 

And  full  in  the  midst  rose  Keenan,  tall 

In  the  gloom,  like  a  martyr  awaiting  his  fall, 

While  the  circle-stroke  of  his  sabre,  swung 

'Round  his  head,  like  a  halo  there,  luminous  hung. 


312  Under  Fire  [No.  82 

Line  after  line  ;  ay,  whole  platoons, 
Struck  dead  in  their  saddles,  of  brave  dragoons 
By  the  maddened  horses  were  onward  borne 
And  into  the  vortex  flung,  trampled  and  torn  ; 
As  Keenan  fought  with  his  men,  side  by  side. 

So  they  rode,  till  there  were  no  more  to  ride. 

But  over  them,  lying  there,  shattered  and  mute, 
What  deep  echo  rolls  ?  —  'Tis  a  death-salute 
From  the  cannon  in  place ;  for,  heroes,  you  braved 
Your  fate  not  in  vain  :  the  army  was  saved  ! 

Over  them  now  —  year  following  year  — 

Over  their  graves  the  pine-cones  fall, 

And  the  whip-poor-will  chants  his  spectre-call ; 

But  they  stir  not  again:   they  raise  no  cheer : 

They  have  ceased.     But  their  glory  shall  never  cease, 

Nor  their  light  be  quenched  in  the  light  of  peace. 

The  rush  of  their  charge  is  resounding  still 

That  saved  the  army  at  Chancellorsville. 


82.    The    Federals   are    Coming! 

By  a  Southern  Lady  (1863) 

At  breakfast,  on  the  morning  of  the  17th,  we  heard 
discussed  the  question,  whether  there  was  a  masked 
battery  on  the  opposite  shore  or  not  ?  After  some 
words  on  the  subject,  pro  and  con,  we  ranged  the 
shore  with  the  glass,  seeing  what  the  gentlemen  be- 
lieved to  be  a  battery.  They  had  been  talking  some 
moments,  when  I  took  the  glass  and  saw  a  number 
of  Federal  soldiers  walking  on  the  levee  toward  the 


No.  82]    The  Federals  are  Coming !  3  1  3 

spot  where  the  battery  was  supposed  to  be.  Several 
others  seemed  to  be  engaged  on  this  very  place  re- 
moving the  branches.  I  called  one  of  the  gentlemen 
to  look.  I  had  given  up  the  glass  but  a  few  moments, 
when  a  volume  of  smoke  burst  from  the  embank- 
ment, and  two  shells  were  sent,  one  after  the  other, 
exploding  at  the  depot  just  below  us.     It  was  indeed 


DESTROYING   A    RAILROAD. 


a  battery,  with  two  guns,  which  commenced  playing 
on  the  city  vigorously. 

We  were  to  leave  that  morning,  and  hearing  that  the 
cars  would  not  venture  up  to  the  depot,  went  to  a 
point  below,  where  we  found  many  anxious  persons 
awaiting  their  arrival.  We  entered  the  cars,  and 
were  sitting  quite  securely  and  comfortably,  when  it 
was  whispered  around,  much  to  the  consternation  of 
passengers,  that  they  were  ordered  to  approach  the 
depot  as  near  as  possible,  and  take  on  freight ;  and 
thus  we  were  carried  up,  under  shelter  of  a  high 


314  Under  Fire  [No.  82 

bluff,  with  many  misgivings  on  my  part,  as  shell 
after  shell  exploded  on  the  hill  above  us.  A  nervous 
gentleman  leaned  forward  and  told  me  that  we  were 
in  great  danger,  and,  speaking  in  the  same  manner 
to  many  of  the  ladies,  suggested  that,  if  we  made  the 
request,  the  conductor  would  doubtless  back  into  a 
safe  place. 

Although  so  frightened,  his  mode  of  relief  was  so 
evidently  selfish  that  the  gentlemen  began  joking 
him  most  unmercifully.  In  looking  out  of  the  win- 
dow, although  I  felt  a  sympathy  for  the  poor  fellow, 
I  could  not  but  be  amused  at  the  ludicrous  scene  that 
presented  itself :  the  porters  bringing  the  baggage 
and  small  freight  from  the  depot  acted  as  if  wild  — 
now  halting  to  await  the  course  of  a  shell  —  then 
dashing  forward,  determined  to  reach  the  cars  before 
another  came.  Two  negroes  were  coming  with  a 
small  trunk  between  them,  and  a  carpet  bag  or  two, 
evidently  trying  to  show  others  of  the  profession  how 
careless  of  danger  they  were,  and  how  foolish  "  nig- 
gars  "  were  to  run  "dat  sort  o'  way."  A  shell  came 
ricochetting  through  the  air  and  fell  a  few  yards 
beyond  the  braves,  when,  lo !  the  trunk  was  sent 
tumbling,  and  landed  bottom  upward  ;  the  carpet  bag 
followed  —  one  grand  somerset ;  and  amid  the  cloud 
of  dust  that  arose,  I  discovered  one  porter  doubled 
up  by  the  side  of  the  trunk,  and  the  other  crouching 
close  by  a  pile  of  plank.  A  shout  from  the  negroes 
on  the  cars,  and  much  laughter,  brought  them  on 
their  feet,  brushing  their  knees  and  giggling,  yet 
looking  quite  foolish,  feeling  their  former  prestige 
gone.  Yet  gentlemen  and  servants  avoided  the 
depot  as  much  as  possible ;  and  whenever  a  portion 
of  earth  was  seen  to  arise  in  a  small  volume,  accom- 


no.  82]     The  Federals  are  Coming  !  3  1  5 

panied  by  smoke,  men  of  both  colors  immediately  ran 
(without  casting  a  look  behind)  swiftly  in  the  oppo- 
site direction,  "  gentlemen  of  color "  generally,  in 
their  haste,  stumbling  and  turning  one  or  two  somer- 
sets before  reaching  a  place  of  safety.  And  so  the 
shell  continued  coming,  exploding  on  all  sides,  yet 
not  happening  to  reach  us.  Soon  the  glad  sound  of 
the  whistle  was  heard,  and,  after  our  long  suspense, 
we  felt  the  motion  of  the  cars  again,  and  were  glad 
to  leave  Vicksburg,  with  the  sound  of  the  cannon  and 
noise  of  the  shell  still  ringing  in  our  ears. 

Some  young  lady  friends  of  mine  were  laughing  and 
telling  me  of  their  experience  during  the  danger  of 
the  previous  night ;  of  the  fright  and  trouble  they 
were  in  at  the  time  the  gunboats  passed.  Major 
Watts,  of  the  Confederate  army,  had  given  a  very 
large  party,  which  they  attended ;  one  dressed  in  a 
corn-colored  silk  trimmed  with  black  lace ;  another 
in  blue  silk  trimmed  with  white  point,  and  still 
another  in  white  lace.  In  the  confusion  and  alarm, 
as  the  first  shell  fell,  one  of  the  young  girls,  who  was 
dancing  with  a  brigadier-general,  clasped  her  hands 
and  exclaimed,  "  Where  shall  we  go  ? "  In  jest  he 
said,  "To  the  country  for  safety."  Believing  him 
serious,  in  the  confusion  that  ensued,  she  told  her 
young  friends.  They  set  out  alone  with  all  speed, 
frightened  and  trembling.  Fortunately  a  gentleman 
friend,  discovering  their  absence,  overtook,  and  pro- 
ceeded with  them.  As  a  shell  would  be  heard  com- 
ing, he  would  cry,  "  Fall !  "  and  down  they  would 
drop  in  the  dust,  party  dresses  and  all,  lying  until  the 
explosion  took  place  ;  then  up,  with  wild  eyes  and 
fiercely  beating  hearts,  flying  with  all  speed  onward. 
After  running  about  a  mile  in  the  fewest  moments 


3i6 


Under  Fire  [No.  s2 


possible,  and  falling  several  times,  they  stopped  at 
the  first  house,  and  remained  until  their  friends  sent 
out  for  them  in  carriages. 

"  If  you  could  have  seen  our  party  dresses  when 
we  reached  home,  and  our  hair,  and  the  flowers,  full 
of  dust,  you  would  never  have  forgotten  us,"  cried 
one.  "Ah!"  said  another,  "We  laugh  gayly  this 
morning,  for  we  are  leaving  the  guns  behind  us ;  but 
last  night  it  was  a  serious  business,  and  we  absolutely 
ran  for  our  lives." 

Soon  the  rumor  came  that  from  Canton  a  large 
Federal  force  was  advancing  on  Jackson.  Jackson 
was  to  be  defended,  which  I  doubted.  Soon  General 
Pemberton  left  and  went  to  Vicksburg  —  Mrs.  Pem- 
berton  to  Mobile.  Batteries  were  being  erected  in 
different  parts  of  the  town  —  one  directly  opposite 
the  house  I  was  in.  I  stood  considering  one  morning 
where  it  was  best  to  go,  and  what  it  was  best  to  do, 
when  a  quick  gallop  sounded  on  the  drive,  and  a 
friend  rode  hastily  up  and  said,  "  Are  you  going  to 
leave?"  "Yes,"  I  answered,  "but  I  have  not  yet  de- 
cided where  to  go."  "Well,  I  assure  you  there  is 
no  time  for  deliberation ;  I  shall  take  my  family  to 
Vicksburg,  as  the  safest  place,  and,  if  you  will  place 
yourself  under  my  charge,  I  will  see  you  safely  to 
your  husband."  So  the  matter  was  agreed  upon, 
and  we  were  to  leave  that  evening.  Still,  I  was  in 
doubt ;  the  Federal  army  was  spreading  all  over  the 
country,  and  I  feared  to  remain  where  I  was.  Yet  I 
thought,  may  I  not  be  in  danger  in  Vicksburg  ?  Sup- 
pose the  gunboats  should  make  an  attack  ?  Still,  it 
was  true,  as  my  friend  had  said,  we  were  in  far  more 
danger  here  from  the  rabble  that  usually  followed  a 
large  army,  who  might  plunder,  insult,  and  rob  us. 


no.  82 j    The  Federals  are  Coming!  317 

Very  hurriedly  we  made  our  arrangements,  packing 
with  scarcely  a  moment  to  lose,  not  stopping  to 
discuss  our  sudden  move  and  the  alarming  news. 
Our  friends,  also,  were  in  as  great  a  panic  and  dis- 
may as  ourselves.  Mrs.  Arden  had  some  chests  of 
heavy  silver.  Many  of  the  pieces  were  such  that  it 
would  have  taken  some  time  to  bury  them.  Her 
husband  was  absent,  and  she  feared  to  trust  the 
negro  men  with  the  secret.  Another  friend  feared 
to  bury  her  diamonds,  thinking  in  that  case  she  might 
never  see  them  more ;  feared,  also,  to  retain  them, 
lest,  through  negroes'  tales,  the  cupidity  of  the 
soldiers  might  become  excited,  and  she  be  a  sufferer 
in  consequence.  Every  tumult  in  the  town  caused 
us  to  fly  to  the  doors  and  windows,  fearing  a  surprise 
at  any  time ;  and  not  only  ladies,  with  pale  faces  and 
anxious  eyes,  met  us  at  every  turn,  but  gentlemen  of 
anti-military  dispositions  were  running  hither  and 
thither,  with  carpet  bags  and  little  valises,  seeking 
conveyances,  determined  to  find  a  safe  place,  if  one 
could  be  found,  where  the  sound  of  a  gun  or  the 
smell  of  powder  might  never  disturb  them  any  more ; 
and,  as  they  ran,  each  had  an  alarming  report  to 
circulate ;  so  that  with  the  rush  and  roar  of  dray, 
wagon,  and  carriage,  the  distracting  reports  of  the 
rapid  advance  of  the  Federal  army,  and  the  stifling 
clouds  of  dust  that  arose  —  with  all,  we  were  in  a 
fair  way  to  believe  ourselves  any  being  or  object  but 
ourselves. 

The  depot  was  crowded  with  crushing  and  elbow- 
ing human  beings,  swaying  to  and  fro  —  baggage 
being  thrown  hither  and  thither  —  horses  wild  with 
fright,  and  negroes  with  confusion  ;  and  so  we  found 
ourselves  in  a  car,  amid  the  living  stream  that  flowed 


3i8 


Under  Fire 


[No.  83 


and  surged  along  —  seeking  the  Mobile  cars  —  seek- 
ing the  Vicksburg  cars  —  seeking  anything  to  bear 
them  away  from  the  threatened  and  fast  depopulat- 
ing town. 


This  is  one 
of  the  most 
graphic  ac- 
counts of  the 
siege  of 
Vicksburg, 
which  was 
taken, 

1863,  by  Gen- 
era] Grant. 


83.    Cave   Life  in  a  Besieged  City 

By  A  Southern  Lady  (1863) 

So  constantly  dropped  the  shells  around  the  city, 
that  the  inhabitants  all  made  preparations  to  live  under 
the  ground  during  the  siege.  Martin  sent  over  and 
had  a  cave  made  in  a  hill  near  by.  We  seized  the 
opportunity  one  evening,  when  the  gunners  were 
probably  at  their  supper,  for  we  had  a  few  moments 
of  quiet,  to  go  over  and  take  possession.  We  were 
under  the  care  of  a  friend  of  Martin's,  who  was  pay- 
master on  the  staff  of  the  same  General  with  whom 
Martin  was  Adjutant.  We  had  neighbors  on  both 
sides  of  us ;  and  it  would  have  been  an  amusing  sight 
to  a  spectator  to  witness  the  domestic  scenes  presented 
without  by  the  number  of  servants  preparing  the 
meals  under  the  high  bank  containing  the  caves. 

Our  dining,  breakfasting,  and  supper  hours  were 
quite  irregular.  When  the  shells  were  falling  fast, 
the  servants  came  in  for  safety,  and  our  meals  waited 
for  completion  some  little  time  ;  again  they  would  fall 
slowly,  with  the  lapse  of  many  minutes  between,  and 
out  would  start  the  cooks  to  their  work. 

Some  families  had  light  bread  made  in  large  quan- 
tities, and  subsisted  on  it  with  milk  (provided  their 
cows  were  not  killed  from  one  milking  time  to  another), 
without  any  more  cooking,  until  called  on  to  replenish. 
Though  most  of  us  lived  on  corn  bread  and  bacon, 


no.  83]  Cave  Life  319 

served  three  times  a  day,  the  only  luxury  of  the  meal 
consisting  in  its  warmth,  I  had  some  flour,  and  fre- 
quently had  some  hard,  tough  biscuit  made  from  it, 
there  being  no  soda  or  yeast  to  be  procured.  At  this 
time  we  could,  also,  procure  beef.  And  so  I  went 
regularly  to  work,  keeping  house  under  ground.  Our 
new  habitation  was  an  excavation  made  in  the  earth, 
and  branching  six  feet  from  the  entrance,  forming  a 
cave  in  the  shape  of  a  T.  In  one  of  the  wings  my 
bed  fitted ;  the  other  I  used  "as  a  kind  of  a  dressing 
room  ;  in  this  the  earth  had  been  cut  down  a  foot  or 
two  below  the  floor  of  the  main  cave ;  I  could  stand 
erect  here  ;  and  when  tired  of  sitting  in  other  portions 
of  my  residence,  I  bowed  myself  into  it,  and  stood 
impassively  resting  at  full  height  —  one  of  the  varia- 
tions in  the  still  shell-expectant  life.  Martin's  ser- 
vant cooked  for  us  under  protection  of  the  hill. 
Our  quarters  were  close,  indeed  ;  yet  I  was  more 
comfortable  than  I  expected  I  could  have  been  made 
under  the  earth  in  that  fashion. 

We  were  safe  at  least  from  fragments  of  shell  — 
and  they  were  flying  in  all  directions ;  though  no  one 
seemed  to  think  our  cave  any  protection,  should  a 
mortar  shell  happen  to  fall  directly  on  top  of  the 
ground  above  us. 

And  so  the  weary  days  went  on  —  the  long,  weary 
days  —  when  we  could  not  tell  in  what  terrible  form 
death  might  come  to  us  before  the  sun  went  down. 
Another  fear  that  troubled  Martin  was,  that  our  pro- 
visions might  not  last  us  during  the  siege.  He  would 
frequently  urge  me  to  husband  all  that  I  had,  for 
troublesome  times  were  probably  in  store  for  us  ;  told 
me  of  the  soldiers  in  the  intrenchments,  who  would 
have  gladly  eaten  the  bread  that  was  left  from  our 


3  2  o  Under  Fire  [No.  s3 

meals,  for  they  were  suffering  every  privation,  and 
that  our  servants  lived  far  better  than  these  men  who 
were  defending  the  city.  Soon  the  pea  meal  became 
an  article  of  food  for  us  also,  and  a  very  unpalat- 
able article  it  proved.  To  make  it  of  proper  consist- 
ency, we  were  obliged  to  mix  some  corn  meal  with  it, 
which  cooked  so  much  faster  than  the  pea  meal,  that 
it  burned  before  the  bread  was  half  done.  The  taste 
was  peculiar  and  disagreeable. 

Still,  we  had  nothing  to  complain  of  in  comparison 
with  the  soldiers :  many  of  them  were  sick  and 
wounded  in  a  hospital  in  the  most  exposed  parts  of  the 
city,  with  shells  falling  and  exploding  all  around  them. 

Even  the  very  animals  seemed  to  share  the  general 
fear  of  a  sudden  and  frightful  death.  The  dogs 
would  be  seen  in  the  midst  of  the  noise  to  gallop  up 
the  street,  and  then  to  return,  as  if  fear  had  maddened 
them.  On  hearing  the  descent  of  a  shell,  they  would 
dart  aside  —  then,  as  it  exploded,  sit  down  and  howl 
in  the  most  pitiful  manner.  There  were  many  walk- 
ing the  street,  apparently  without  homes. 

In  the  midst  of  other  miserable  thoughts,  it  came 
into  my  mind  one  day,  that  these  dogs  through  hun- 
ger might  become  as  much  to  be  dreaded  as  wolves. 
Groundless  was  this  anxiety,  for  in  the  course  of  a 
week  or  two   they  had  almost  disappeared. 


no.  84j  Gettysburg  321 

84.     Gettysburg 

By  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman  (1863) 
Wave,  wave  your  glorious  battle-flags,  brave  soldiers  a  terrible 

Of  the  North,  battle  July  4, 

1863,  by 

And  from  the  fields  your  arms  have  won  to-day  go  which  the 

proudly  forth  !  Southern 

For  now,  O  comrades  dear  and  leal  —  from  whom  no  forcedtore- 

llls  COUld  part,  treat  across 

Through  the  long  years  of  hopes  and  fears,  the  na-  JhePotomac: 

tion's  constant  heart —  crisis  of  the 

Men  who  have  driven  so  oft  the  foe,  so  oft  have  war- 

striven  in  vain, 
Yet  ever  in  the  perilous  hour,  have  crossed  his  path 

again,  — 
At  last  we  have  our  heart's  desire,  from  them  we  met 

have  wrung 
A  victory  that  round  the  world  shall  long  be  told  and 

sung! 
It  was  the  memory  of  the  past  that  bore  us  through 

the  fray, 
That  gave  the  grand  old  army  strength  to  conquer  on 

this  day  ! 

Oh,  now  forget  how  dark  and  red  Virginia's  rivers 

flow, 
The  Rappahannock's  tangled  wilds,  the  glory  and  the 

woe ; 
The  fever-hung  encampments,  where  our  dying  knew 

full  sore 
How  sweet  the  north-wind  to  the  cheek  it  soon  shall 

cool  no  more ; 

Y 


322  Under  Fire  [No.  s4 

The  fields  we  fought,  and  gained,  and  lost ;  the  low- 
land sun  and  rain 

That  wasted  us,  that  bleached  the  bones  of  our  un- 
buried  slain ! 

There  was  no  lack  of  foes  to  meet,  of  deaths  to  die  no 
lack, 

All  the  hawks  of  heaven  learned  to  follow  on  our  track  ; 

But  henceforth,  hovering  southward,  their  flight  shall 
mark  afar 

The  paths  of  yon  retreating  host  that  shun  the  north- 
ern star. 

At  night  before  the  closing  fray,  when  all  the  front 
was  still, 

We  lay  in  bivouac  along  the  cannon-crested  hill. 

Ours  was  the  dauntless  Second  Corps ;  and  many  a 
soldier  knew 

How  sped  the  fight,  and  sternly  thought  of  what  was 
yet  to  do. 

Guarding  the  centre  there,  we  lay,  and  talked  with 
bated  breath 

Of  Buford's  stand  beyond  the  town,  of  gallant  Rey- 
nold's death, 

Of  cruel  retreats  through  pent-up  streets  by  murder- 
ous volleys  swept,  — 

How  well  the  Stone,  the  Iron,  brigades  their  bloody 
outposts  kept : 

'Twas  for  the  Union,  for  the  Flag,  they  perished, 
heroes  all, 

And  we  swore  to  conquer  in  the  end,  or  even  like 
them  to  fall. 

And  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth  the  tale  of  what 
grim  day  just  done, 


no.  84]  Gettysburg  323 

The  fight  by  Round  Top's  craggy  spur  —  of  all  the 

deadliest  one  ; 
It  saved  the  left :  but  on  the  right  they  pressed  us 

back  too  well, 
And  like  a  field  in  spring  the  ground  was  ploughed 

with  shot  and  shell. 
There   was   the    ancient   graveyard,    its    hummocks 

crushed  and  red. 
And  there,  between  them,  side  by  side,  the  wounded 

and  the  dead :' 
The  mangled  corpses  fallen  above  —  the  peaceful  dead 

below, 
Laid  in  their  graves,  to  slumber  here,  a  score  of  years 

ago; 
It  seemed  their  waking,  wandering  shades  were  asking 

of  our  slain, 
What  brought  such  hideous  tumult  now  where  they  so 

still  had  lain ! 

Bright  rose  the  sun  of  Gettysburg  that  morrow  morn- 
ing tide, 
And  call  of  trump  and  roll  of  drum  from  height  to 

height  replied. 
Hark  !  from  the  east  already  goes  up  the  rattling  din ; 
The  Twelfth  Corps,  winning  back  their  ground,  right 

well  the  day  begin  ! 
They  whirl  fierce  Ewell  from  their  front !  Now  we  of 

the  Second  pray, 
As  right  and  left  the  brunt  have  borne,  the  centre 

might  to-day. 
But  all  was  still  from  hill  to  hill  for  many  a  breathless 

hour, 
While  for  the  coming  battle-shock  Lee  gathered  in 

his  power ; 


324  Under  Fire  [No.  s4 

And  back  and  forth  our  leaders  rode,  who  knew  not 

rest  or  fear, 
And  along  the  lines,  where'er  they  came,  went  up  the 

ringing  cheer. 


'Twas  past  the  hour  of  nooning ;  the  summer  skies 
were  blue ; 

Behind  the  covering  timber  the  foe  was  hid  from  view  ; 

So  fair  and  sweet  with  waving  wheat  the  pleasant  val- 
ley lay, 

It  brought  to  mind  our  Northern  home,  and  meadows 
far  away ; 

When  the  whole  western  ridge  at  once  was  fringed 
with  fire  and  smoke, 

Against  our  lines  from  seven-score  guns  the  dreadful 
tempest  broke ! 

Then  loud  our  batteries  answer,  and  far  along  the 
crest, 

And  to  and  fro  the  roaring  bolts  are  driven  east  and 
west; 

Heavy  and  dark  around  us  glooms  the  stifling  sulphur- 
cloud, 

And  the  cries  of  mangled  men  and  horse  go  up  be- 
neath its  shroud. 

The  guns  are  still :  the  end  is  nigh  :  we  grasp  our 

arms  anew ; 
Oh,  now  let  every  heart  be  stanch  and  every  aim  be 

true ! 
For  look !  from  yonder  wood  that  skirts  the  valley's 

further  marge, 
The  flower  of  all  the  Southern  host  move  to  the  final 

charge. 


no.  84]  Gettysburg  325 

By  heaven !  it  is  a  fearful  sight  to  see  their  double 

rank 
Come  with  a  hundred  battle-flags  —  a  mile  from  flank 

to  flank ! 
Tramping  the  grain  to  earth,  they  come,  ten  thousand 

men  abreast ; 
Their  standards  wave  —  their  hearts  are  brave  —  they 

hasten  not,  nor  rest, 
But  close  the  gaps  our  cannon    make,  and    onward 

press,  and  nigher, 
And,  yelling  at  our  very  front,  again  pour  in  their 

fire. 


Now  burst  our  sheeted  lightnings  forth,  now  all  our 

wrath  has  vent ! 
They   die,  they   wither;  through   and  through    their 

wavering  lines  are  rent. 
But  these  are  gallant,  desperate  men,  of  our  own  race 

and  land, 
Who  charge  anew,  and  welcome  death,  and  fight  us 

hand  to  hand  : 
Vain,  vain  !  give  way,  as  well  ye  may  —  the  crimson 

die  is  cast ! 
Their  bravest  leaders  bite  the  dust,  their  strength  is 

failing  fast ; 
They   yield,  they  turn,  they  fly   the   field  :  we    smite 

them  as  they  run  ; 
Their  arms,  their  colors,  are   our   spoil ;  the  furious 

fight  is  done  ! 
Across  the  plain  we  follow  far  and  backward  push 

the  fray  : 
Cheer !  cheer !  the  grand  old  Army  at  last  has  won 

the  day  ! 


326  Under  Fire  [No.  s4 

Hurrah  !  the  day  has  won  the  cause !     No  gray-clad 

host  henceforth 
Shall  come  with  fire  and  sword  to  tread  the  highways 

of  the  North  ! 
'Twas  such  a  flood  as  when  ye  see,  along  the  Atlantic 

shore, 
The  great  spring-tide  roll  grandly    in  with  swelling 

surge  and  roar : 
It  seems   no  wall  can  stay  its  leap  or  balk  its  wild 

desire 
Beyond  the  mount  that  Heaven  hath  fixed  to  higher 

mount,  and  higher ; 
But  now,  when  whitest  lifts  its  crest,  most  loud  its 

billows  call, 
Touched  by  the  Power  that  led  them  on,  they  fall,  and 

fall,  and  fall. 
Even  thus,  unstayed  upon  his  course,  to  Gettysburg 

the  foe 
His  legions  led,  and  fought,  and  fled,  and  might  no 

further  go. 


Full  many  a  dark-eyed   Southern  girl  shall  weep  her 

lover  dead ; 
But  with  a  price  the  fight  was  ours  —  we  too  have 

tears  to  shed  ! 
The  bells  that  peal  our  triumph  forth  anon  shall  toll 

the  brave, 
Above  whose  heads  the  cross  must  stand,  the  hill-side 

grasses  wave  ! 
Alas !  alas !  the  trampled  grass  shall  thrive  another 

year, 
The  blossoms  on  the  apple-boughs  with  each    new 

spring  appear, 


no.  84]  Gettysburg  327 

But  when  our  patriot-soldiers  fall,  Earth  gives  them  up 

to  God ; 
Though  their  souls  rise  in  clearer  skies,  their  forms 

are  as  the  sod  ; 
Only  their  names  and   deeds  are  ours  —  but,   for  a 

century  yet, 
The  dead  who  fell  at  Gettysburg,  the  land  shall  not 

forget. 


God  send  us  peace !  and  where  for  aye  the  loved  and 

lost  recline 
Let  fall,  O  South,  your  leaves  of  palm  —  O  North, 

your  sprigs  of  pine  ! 
But  when,  with  every  ripened  year,  we  keep  the  har- 
vest-home, 
And  to  the   dear   Thanksgiving-feast  our  sons   and 

daughters  come  — 
When  children's  children  throng  the  board  in  the  old 

homestead  spread, 
And  the  bent  soldier  of  these  wars  is  seated  at  the 

head, 
Long,  long  the  lads  shall  listen  to  hear  the  gray-beard 

tell 
Of  those  who  fought  at  Gettysburg  and  stood  their 

ground  so  well : 
"'Twas  for    the  Union  and  the  Flag,"  the  veteran 

shall  say, 
"  Our  grand  old  Army  held  the  ridge,  and  won  that 

glorious  day ! " 


328 


Under  Fire  [No.  s5 


85.    How  the    Negroes  helped  the 
Yankees 

By  Reverend  George  Hughes  Hepworth  (1863) 

Many  a  man  who  has  boasted  that  all  his  slaves 
could  be  trusted,  that  he  had  often  given  his  boy  Jim 
hundreds  of  dollars  to  carry  to  the  bank,  and  that  not 
a  hand  on  his  plantation  could  be  cajoled  away,  had 
his  eyes  opened  wide  on  these  days  of  our  advance. 
Unwilling  that  either  Confederate  or  Federal  should 
confiscate  his  most  valuable  horses,  he  had  very 
stealthily  and  carefully  hidden  them  in  the  thick 
underbrush  of  the  woods,  a  mile  or  a  mile  and  a  half 
away.  Jim  alone  knew  where  they  were.  The  Con- 
federates came  rushing  by,  and  Jim  stood  with  open 
mouth  at  the  spectacle ;  and,  when  asked  where  his 
master's  horses  were,  he,  of  course,  stared  in  profound 
ignorance.  When  the  Federal  advance  came  along, 
a  cavalry-man  rode  up  on  his  jaded  beast  and  in- 
quired, — 

"  Boys,  can  you  tell  me  where  I  can  get  a  fresh 
horse  ? " 

And  Jim  was  not  at  all  bashful.  He  at  once  an- 
swered, — 

"  Yes,  marster  :  I'll  show  you  where  de  old  man 
hid  his  stallion ;  "  and  forthwith  trotted  by  the  side  of 
the  cavalry-man  until  he  exchanged  his  worn-out  hack 
for  a  fine,  sleek  stallion  worth  a  thousand  dollars. 

These  instances  were  innumerable.  I  will  venture 
to  say,  that  nearly  half  our  cavalry-horses  were  changed 
in  the  Teche  country;  and,  in  the  vast  majority  of 
cases,  it  was  the  favorite  servants  who  pointed  out  the 
hiding-place,  and  said,  — 


no.  85]  The  Negroes  329 

"You  give  us  free,  and  we  helps  you  all  we  can." 

A  curious  instance  of  this  kind  came  under  my 
notice.  Wheelock  and  I  were  riding  along  with  the 
skirmishers  towards  Opelousas,  on  two  beasts  that 
were  thoroughly  jaded,  when  a  black  boy  rushed  out 
from  a  cabin  in  the  most  excited  manner,  and  would 
hardly  let  our  horses  go  by,  crying  out,  — 

"  Master,  if  you  wants  me  to,  I  will  tell  you  where 
there  is  two  splendid  horses  belonging  to  de  ole 
man." 

"  How  far  off  ?  "  we  asked. 

"'Bout  half  a  mile,  master;  and  hid  in  de  thick 
cane-brake." 

"  But  why,  you  young  rascal,  do  you  come  here, 
and  discover  to  us  your  master's  property  ?  You 
ought  to  have  more  love  for  him  than  to  do  such  a 


thin 


fc>* 


The  idea  of  love  seemed  to  strike  the  boy  as  being 
very  peculiar  ;  and  he  only  answered,  — 

"  When  my  master  begins  to  lub  me,  den  it'll  be 
time  enough  for  me  to  lub  him.  What  I  wants  is  to 
get  away.  I  want  you  to  take  me  off  from  dis  plan- 
tation, where  I  can  be  free." 

It  was  not  a  particularly  pleasant  though  a  some- 
what romantic  thing  to  leave  our  columns,  and  go 
half  a  mile  into  the  woods.  The  guerillas  abounded  ; 
and  they  had  no  scruples  whatever  about  drawing  a 
bead  on  a  stray  Union  soldier. 

Still,  we  needed  horses,  and  made  the  attempt. 
The  beasts  were  not  there.  The  black  boy  was  con- 
founded, but  said  he  would  call  Jean. 

Now,  Jean  was  the  only  boy  on  the  plantation  who 
knew  where  those  horses  were.  He  was  a  favorite 
servant  at  the  "big  house  ;  "  and,  when  the  owner  dis- 


3  3°  Under  Fire  [No.  s5 

covered  that  the  retreat  of  the  horses  was  known  to 
some  of  the  hands,  he  told  Jean  to  remove  them 
secretly  to  some  secure  corner,  where  neither  the 
hands  whom  he  knew  he  could  not  trust  nor  the 
Federals  could  penetrate. 

Jean  was  brought.  He  was  forty-five  years  old, 
had  a  family,  lived  as  well  as  a  slave  can  live  in  the 
Teche  country  (which  is  one  of  the  most  cruel  places 
in  the  State),  and  had  received  a  great  many  favors 
from  the  "  big  house  "  :  still  he  longed  to  be  free.  I 
said,  — 

"  Jean,  I  hear  you  have  hidden  two  good  horses  in 
the  cane-brake.  Will  you  show  me  where  they 
are  ?  " 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  as  though  revolving  the 
subject  in  his  mind,  grew  serious,  and  then  said  slowly 
and  calmly,  — 

"  Yes,  master,  I  will  show  you  where  dem  horses  is. 
De  ole  fokes  will  kill  me  near-a-most,  if  dey  ever  finds 
it  out ;  but  you'se  de  people  dat  sets  us  free,  and  we 
poor  colored  fokes  ought  to  do  what  little  we  can  for 
you." 

He  led  the  way  through  fields  half  a  mile,  and  then 
came  to  a  very  dense  cane-brake.  It  was  a  ticklish 
place  to  be  in ;  but  we  were  in  such  condition,  that 
we  were  willing  to  run  some  risk.  Jean  disappeared, 
and  soon  brought  out  a  fine  gray  horse ;  and  then, 
disappearing  a  second  time,  came  back  bringing 
another.  We  mounted  with  all  despatch,  the  black 
boy  getting  astride  of  a  very  lean  beast  he  had  man- 
aged to  pick  up,  and  hastened  on  for  our  advance. 

Jean's  is  a  sample  of  the  kind  of  love  the  best 
negroes  bear  their  masters.  The  more  a  slave  knows, 
and  the  nearer  he  comes  to  being  a  self-supporting 


no.  86]  A  Negro  Regiment  331 

man,  the  less  willing  is  he  to  live  in  servitude.  With 
the  first  idea  that  enters  a  black  man's  head  comes 
the  desire  for  freedom. 


86.    A  Negro  Regiment  Under  Fire 

By  Reverend  George  Hughes  Hepworth  (1863) 

The  pluck  of  the  negro  as  a  soldier  was  fairly  tried  PortHudson, 
at  the  storming  of  Port  Hudson  in  one  of  the  hottest  ?elow  Vic*s" 

,  burg,  was  the 

charges  of  the  war.  There  were  two  regiments  of  lastConfed- 
Louisiana  negroes  in  the  right  wing  of  the  attacking  erate  strong- 
force.  Nobody  trusted  them.  The  West-Point  gen-  river  Taken 
erals  shirked  the  responsibility  of  having  them  in  July  8, 1863. 
their  brigades.  They  were  nothing  but  "  nigger 
regiments,"  —  the  exponents  of  a  pet  idea  of  certain 
crazy  people  in  the  North.  The  Southerners  joined 
in  the  chorus  of  croakers,  and  sneered,  and  intimated 
that  things  were  come  to  a  pretty  pass  when  we  put 
guns  into  the  hands  of  men  who  were  as  likely  to 
shoot  themselves  as  any  one  else,  and  drew  thern  up 
in  line  against  the  chivalry  of  the  South  ;  and  so  the 
whole  current  of  popular  feeling  was  against  them. 
Still  they  drilled  well;  yes,  they  dressed  into  line 
magnificently,  —  a  stalwart,  heavy-chested  set  of 
fellows !  They  handled  their  muskets,  too,  in  very 
soldierly  fashion ;  but  it  was  only  by  resolutely  stem- 
ming the  tide,  by  the  most  independent  persistence, 
that  the  regiments  kept  their  position.  When  first 
formed,  they  were  laid  on  the  shelf.  They  camped 
in  the  mud  in  Algiers  or  Baton  Rouge  eighteen 
months,  rubbing  their  gun-barrels.  At  last  came 
the  siege  of  Port  Hudson.     Every  man  was  needed; 


332  Under  Fire  [No.  se 

and,  more  and  better,  Banks  had  no  prejudice  against 
color.  In  spite  of  some  opposition,  they  were  put 
into  the  field  by  the  side  of  white  soldiers.  They 
were  quiet,  remaining  within  their  camp-lines,  hold- 
ing their  little  meetings,  hardly  ever  riotous,  seldom 
drunk,  never  trespassing  beyond  their  lines ;  and  their 
presence  was  soon  forgotten. 

In  good  time,  the  morning  came  when  the  first 
assault  was  made.  The  distance  between  the  camp 
of  the  assaulting  party  and  the  works  of  the  enemy 
was  a  half-mile,  more  or  less.  The  ground  was 
ragged  and  broken,  full  of  gullies,  and  strewn  with 
timber  placed  there  by  the  rebels  to  obstruct  our 
progress.  When  our  forces  got  near  enough  to  the 
fortifications,  they  had  to  sustain,  besides  the  direct 
fire  upon  their  front,  a  severe  enfilading  fire  from 
some  heavy  guns.  Altogether,  it  was  an  assault 
that  required  men  of  the  utmost  daring  and  pluck. 

The  charge  was  ordered.  The  negro  regiments 
advanced,  and  very  soon  came  into  the  grape  of 
the  foe.  They  had  never  smelt  powder  before ;  but 
(their  officers  say)  there  was  an  eagerness,  a  wild, 
uncontrollable  enthusiasm,  about  them,  which  was 
quite  wonderful.  They  charged  directly  in  the 
face  of  the  storm  of  bullets,  square  up  to  the  ditch, 
which  is  on  this  side  the  earth-works,  and  six  feet 
deep  and  twenty  feet  wide.  They  were  most 
horridly  cut  up ;  yet  they  retired  in  good  order, 
and,  when  called  again  into  line,  answered  at  once. 
A  second  time,  on  the  double-quick,  they  rushed 
up  to  the  ditch,  and  again  fell  back.  They  were 
dressed  into  line  a  third  time,  and  advanced. 
"When  within  a  few  rods  of  the  enemy's  works," 
said  one  of    their   officers,   "  they  became    perfectly 


No.  87]  A  Negro  Regiment  333 

uncontrollable.  We  could  not  keep  up  with  them. 
Their  eagerness  never  was  matched.  Instead  of 
cowardice,  they  seemed  to  have  no  conception  of 
fear.  The  ditch  troubled  them.  The  enemy,  their 
masters,  whom  they  love  so  dearly,  were  beyond  ; 
and  they  chafed  beyond  measure.  Just  then,  the 
two  regiments  set  up  a  yell.  They  were  close  to  the 
foe.  It  was  a  sound  unlike  any  thing  I  ever  heard,  — 
a  wild,  unearthly  noise.  It  came  across  me  at  the  time, 
that  it  was  the  slavery  of  a  thousand  years  finding 
vent." 

The  vexed  question  is  settled  for  ever.  The  com- 
manding general,  in  his  official  report,  speaks  in  the 
most  complimentary  way  of  their  behavior.  They 
have  fairly  won  a  name,  and  won  it  by  undoubted 
bravery,  If,  after  this,  we  talk  of  negro  regiments 
sneeringly,  we  are  to  be  pitied  for  our  littleness,  and 
despised  for  our  ignorance.  The  only  difficulty  to  be 
found  with  them  is  one  not  often  complained  of.  It 
is,  that  they  are  apt  to  go  too  far.  They  become 
passionate,  fearfully  excited,  and  their  officers  lose 
control  of  them.  In  battle  they  are  not  merciful. 
So  complete  is  their  hatred  of  the  rebels,  that  they 
want  to  exterminate  them. 


87.    Chickamauga 

By  Colonel  Robert  L.  Kimberly  (1863) 


It  was  after  midnight  when  the  regiment,  having  This  piece  is 
passed  Gordon's  Mills,  went  into  bivouac  in  a  thicket  inserted  as 

t^i  r  an  example 

near   the  road.     The  men  felt  that  they  were  on  a  0f  the  de- 
battlefield,  and  were  glad  enough  of  the  scanty  rest  tailed  de- 


334 


Under  Fire 


[No.  87 


scription  of  a 
battle. 
Chicka- 
mauga, 
tought  Sep- 
tember 20, 
1863, 

was  one  of 
the  most  des- 
perate battles 
of  the  war, 
and  was 
marked  by 
the  splendid 
generalship 
of  General 
Geoige  H. 
Thomas. 


that  was  to  be  had  before  daylight  should  call  them 
to  action  again.  Nothing  could  be  seen  of  the  posi- 
tion, but  it  was  certain  that  the  troops  were  massed 
rather  than  strung  out  in  line,  and  the  road  was 
jammed  with  artillery  and  trains.  In  the  morning 
the  regiment  with  the  rest  was  moved  further  along 
toward  Rossville  on  the  Chattanooga  road,  until  it 
was  near  the  Widow  Glenn  house,  where  Rose- 
crans'  headquarters  had  been  established.  Further 
down  the  road  and  apparently  to  the  right  of  it,  there 
broke  out,  about  the  middle  of  the  forenoon,  the 
sound  of  a  severe  engagement.  This  was  renewed 
again  and  again,  and  the  report  went  about  that  a 
force  sent  to  dispute  the  enemy's  passage  of  the 
Chickamauga,  needed  more  than  one  reinforcement. 
Finally,  soon  after  noon,  Palmer's  division  was 
deployed  in  echelon  and  moved  straight  across  the 
Rossville  road  to  the  attack.  No  enemy  was  in 
sight  when  the  movement  began.  The  formation  in 
echelon  was  with  the  object  of  striking  and  crushing 
the  enemy's  left  flank.  The  movement  started  in  an 
open  wood ;  beyond  this  was  a  large  open  field,  and 
about  half  way  across  it  a  strip  of  woodland.  The 
Forty-first  was  in  the  first  echelon,  and  advanced  to 
the  woodland.  But  beyond  this  the  fighting  was 
terrific.  From  the  edge  of  the  woods  in  front  there 
came  a  storm  of  rifle  balls,  and  back  of  this  were 
batteries  in  rapid  action.  Away  to  the  right  the  bat- 
tle swept,  and  it  was  plain  that  the  enemy's  flank 
was  not  found. 

The  Forty-first  fired  its  last  cartridges  and  was 
recalled  to  replenish  the  boxes.  This  was  done 
hurriedly,  back  in  the  open  wood,  and  it  was 
hardly   finished   when    the    enemy  fell   furiously   on 


no.  87]  Chickamauga  335 

Van  Cleave's  division,  which  was  on  the  right  of 
Palmer's.  Colonel  Hazen  was  near  the  Forty-first 
when  this  happened.  Some  idle  batteries  were  at 
hand,  and  Hazen  quickly  posted  these  to  check  the 
onslaught,  for  Van  Cleave's  men  were  beginning  to 
come  back.  Then  the  brigade  was  moved  into  the 
path  of  the  storm  which  was  bearing  back  the  divi- 
sion of  Van  Cleave.  Colonel  Wiley  broke  his  line  to 
the  rear  by  companies,  to  let  the  retreating  crowds 
pass  through,  and  then  wheeled  back  into  line.  The 
Forty-first  was  still  in  the  open  wood,  and  in  front 
was  a  large  cornfield.  Through  this  the  Confeder- 
ates were  swarming,  but  their  first  line  had  spent  its 
force  and  lost  its  formation.  Close  behind  came  a 
second  line  in  perfect  order.  Van  Cleave's  retreating 
regiments  had  broken  up  Hazen's  line  as  they  swept 
through,  but  the  Forty-first  had  kept  in  form  by 
breaking  to  the  rear  to  let  the  fugitives  pass,  as  has 
been  told.  Wiley  opened  on  the  Confederate  second 
line,  with  volleys  by  front  and  rear  ranks,  and  the 
advance  was  instantly  checked.  But  it  was  soon 
apparent  that  the  regiment  was  out-flanked.  Shots 
began  to  come  from  the  right  rear.  Then  Wiley 
made  a  change  of  front  to  face  to  the  right,  and  sent 
a  volley  into  the  gathering  enemy  there.  Then  a 
change  back,  to  face  the  front  and  check  the  main 
advance.  Never  had  the  marvellous  effect  of  volley 
firing  been  more  clearly  demonstrated;  the  fiery  Con- 
federates could  not  stand  against  it.  The  closed 
ranks  of  .the  Forty-first  were  in  sharp  contrast  with 
the  loose  line  in  front  and  the  wandering  foes  on  the 
right.  A  hundred  yards  at  a  time  the  regiment  fell 
back  while  loading,  and  easily  held  the  enemy  at  bay. 
Then  a  commanding  crest  was  reached,  where  a  bat- 


33^ 


Under  Fire  [No.  s7 


tery  had  taken  post.  Here  it  was  proposed  to  stand, 
but  the  enemy  did  not  come  on.  He  was  reforming 
his  lines,  as  could  be  plainly  seen  from  the  crest. 
But  night  drew  near,  and  the  battle  was  over  for  the 
day. 

Much  of  the  night  time  was  taken  up  with  getting 
into  a  new  position  —  slow  and  tiresome  marching  in 
the  darkness.  Next  morning,  before  the  enemy 
moved,  the  Forty-first  was  lying  behind  a  barricade 
of  rails  and  logs,  an  open  field  behind  it.  There 
were  troops  to  right  and  left,  showing  that  a  general 
line  of  battle  was  posted.  Rations  were  not  abun- 
dant, and  of  water  there  was  none  at  all.  A  detail 
was  sent  to  fill  canteens ;  the  men  did  not  return,  but 
fell  into  the  hands  of  'the  enemy,  who  held  the  water 
supply  that  was  ours  the  day  before.  The  intense 
suffering  occasioned  by  this  lack  of  water  can  hardly 
be  imagined ;  pangs  of  hunger  seemed  mild  in  com- 
parison. Before  night,  men's  tongues  were  swollen 
and  their  lips  blackened  and  cracked  until  the  power 
of  speech  was  gone.  It  was  far  on  into  the  next 
night  when  that  time  of  awful  thirst  was  ended. 

The  morning  was  well  along  when  it  became  appar- 
ent that  the  enemy  was  advancing  upon  the  Union 
lines.  Nothing  was  to  be  seen  in  the  woods  to  the 
front  but  soon  the  well-known  Confederate  yell  was 
heard,  and  the  skirmishers  became  engaged,  falling 
back  before  the  enemy's  line  of  battle.  Then  the 
line  itself  was  in  view,  coming  on  with  true  Southern 
impetuosity.  From  behind  its  barricade  of  rails,  the 
Forty-first  opened  fire,  and  to  right  and  left  the 
fight  was  on.  The  Confederates  returned  the  fire 
with  spirit,  but  their  advance  was  checked,  and  they 
did  little  or  no  damage  to  the  men  behind  the  barri- 


no.  87]  Chickamauga  337 

cades.  The  attacking  line  rapidly  thinned  out  under 
the  steady  fire ;  then  it  became  unsteady,  and  finally 
it  turned  and  fled.  This  was  the  regiment's  first 
experience  behind  a  defended  line.  Slight  as  was 
that  defense  of  rails,  it  changed  the  whole  character 
of  the  fighting.  The  enemy  was  severely  punished, 
as  was  plainly  to  be  seen,  and  had  been  able  to  make 
no  return  in  kind.  The  men  began  to  wonder  if  an 
attacking  force  could  cover  three  hundred  yards  or 
so,  before  a  well  directed  fire  should  destroy  it. 

But  the  battle  was  not  over  with  this  one  success- 
ful defense.  The  Confederate  line  overlapped  the 
Union  left  and  had  forced  it  back  until  it  was 
stretched  across  the  open  field  in  the  rear,  and  at  a 
right  angle  with  the  general  line.  Then  there  was  a 
brave  fight  on  both  sides  in  the  open  ground.  It  was 
plainly  seen  from  the  position  held  by  the  Forty-first, 
and  it  was  most  eagerly  watched.  If  those  men  on 
the  flank  failed  to  maintain  their  ground,  the  whole 
line  would  be  taken  in  rear  while  it  was  assaulted  in 
front.  There  were  some  moments  of  intense  anxiety, 
and  then  it  was  seen  that  the  Confederate  assault  had 
spent  its  force.  It  was  as  stubborn  a  fight  as  one 
could  wish  to  see,  but  the  staying  quality  of  the 
Union  troops  won.  Baird's  and  Johnson's  divisions 
were  on  the  left  of  Palmer's. 

This  doubling  up  of  a  flank  occurred  again  that 
day  —  the  second  time,  the  right  flank.  This  came 
from  a  break  in  the  Union  line,  made  not  by  the 
enemy,  but  by  order  from  the  commanding  general. 
A  division  (Wood's)  was  withdrawn  from  its  place  in 
line,  and  at  once  the  enemy  entered  the  gap.  The 
army  was  cut  in  two,  and  most  of  the  right  was 
driven   from   the   field.     The   general   of   the   army 


338 


Under  Fire  [No.  s7 


went  as  far  as  Chattanooga.  The  Confederates 
pushed  their  advantage  toward  the  Union  left,  until 
the  division  next  on  the  right  of  Palmer's  was  bent 
back  to  the  rear.  This,  like  the  flank  attack  on  the 
left,  was  in  view,  from  the  position  of  the  Forty-first, 
and  was  watched  as  anxiously.  Also  like  the  other 
flanking  operation,  this  one  failed,  thanks  to  nothing 
but  the  steadiness  of  the  Union  troops. 

But,  while  these  things  were  taking  place  in  front 
and  on  both  flanks  another  peril  began  to  grow  in  the 
consciousness  of  the  men  who  could  not  be  driven 
from  front  or  flank.  The  cartridge  boxes  were  being 
rapidly  emptied,  and  no  ammunition  train  was  near. 
Everything  seemed  to  have  been  swept  away  with 
the  right  wing.  Then  from  the  woods  across  the 
open  field  in  rear,  bullets  began  to  whistle  toward  the 
backs  of  the  men  in  the  line.  These  shots  were  sup- 
posed to  come  from  sharpshooters  in  the  trees.  A 
company  of  the  Forty-first  was  faced  about  and 
delivered  a  volley  into  the  treetops  across  the  open. 
This  had  a  good  effect,  there  was  one  danger  the  less. 
But  the  question  of  ammunition  pressed.  Nobody 
knew  where  to  find  it.  The  four  divisions  of  the  left 
wing  were  holding  their  ground,  but  they  were  out  of 
communication  with  the  rest  of  the  army,  wherever 
that  might  be,  and  they  had  no  supplies  of  any  kind. 
The  division  generals  came  together,  and  the  question 
of  a  commander  came  up.  The  three  corps  of  the 
army  were  represented  in  those  four  divisions,  but 
there  was  no  corps  commander  present.  None  of 
the  division  generals  coveted  the  responsibility  of 
command,  but  it  was  plain  that  something  must  be 
done.  There  was  heavy  firing  off  to  the  right,  and  it 
was  guessed  that  somewhere  in  that  direction  Thomas 


No.  87] 


Chickamauga 


339 


was  holding  out  against  the  enemy  that  had  swept 
away  the  right  wing.  Finally,  Hazen  volunteered  to 
take  his  brigade  across  the  interval,  and  make  com- 
munication with  whatever  Union  force  might  be  still 
in  the  field.  The  brigade  was  withdrawn  from  the 
line,  marched  somewhat  to  the  rear,  and  then  started 


"OLD    ABE." 


off  through  the  unexplored  woods  toward  the  sound 
of  battle.  The  movement  was  made  cautiously  but 
rapidly,  the  brigade  constantly  in  readiness  for  any 
fortune  that  might  befall.  There  were  some  scat- 
tered Confederates  in  the  woods,  and  a  Confederate 
skirmish  line  was  struck  obliquely,  but  no  other  force 
was   encountered.     The   way   seemed    miles    longer 


34°  Under  Fire  [No.  ss 

than  it  was,  and  the  relief  was  great  when  the  lead- 
ing regiment  came  upon  the  left  of  the  position  where 
Thomas  had  stopped  the  victorious  enemy  and  held 
him  steadfastly.  Thomas  himself,  beloved  of  all  the 
army,  rode  up  to  take  Hazen  by  the  hand.  The 
arrival  was  just  in  time.  A  desperate  assault  was 
about  to  come  on  the  left  of  Thomas's  line.  Hazen's 
men  marched  through  a  cornfield  to  the  crest  of  a 
low  hill,  and  were  there  massed  in  column  of  regi- 
ments. Scarcely  was  this  done  when  the  Confeder- 
ate storm  burst.  The  slope  in  front  of  the  brigade 
was  open  ground,  and  in  a  moment  this  was  covered 
with  heavy  masses  of  the  enemy  making  for  the  top. 
Hazen's  regiments  were  lying  flat.  The  foremost 
sprang  to  its  feet,  delivered  its  volley  and  went  down 
again  to  load,  and  the  next  regiment  just  behind  rose 
to  fire  and  fall  flat  while  the  third  put  in  its  work ; 
and  so  on.  The  slope  was  strewn  with  Confederate 
dead  and  wounded,  but  not  a  man  could  reach  the 
crest.  Along  the  rest  of  the  line  also  the  defense 
was  successful.  Night  was  falling  fast,  and  the  battle 
of  Chickamauga  was  over. 


88.    O  Captain  !    My  Captain  ! 

By  Walt  Whitman  (1865) 

O  Captain  !  my  Captain  !  our  fearful  trip  is  done, 
The  ship  has  weather'd    every  rack,   the  prize  we 

sought  is  won, 
The  port  is  near,  the  bells  I  hear,  the  people  all 

exulting, 


no.  88j  0  Captain  /  My  Captain  !    341 

While  follow  eyes  the  steady  keel,  the  vessel  grim 
and  daring; 

But  O  heart !  heart !  heart ! 
O  the  bleeding  drops  of  red, 

Where  on  the  deck  my  Captain  lies, 
Fallen  cold  and  dead. 

O  Captain  !  my  Captain  !  rise  up  and  hear  the  bells ; 
Rise  up  —  for   you  the  flag  is  flung  —  for  you  the 

bugle  trills, 
For  you  4he-  bouquets    and  ribbon'd  wreaths  —  for 

you  the  shores  a-crowding, 
For  you  they   call,   the  swaying   mass,  their   eager 
faces  turning ; 

Here  Captain  !  dear  father  ! 
This  arm  beneath  your  head  ! 

It  is  some  dream  that  on  the  deck 
You've  fallen  cold  and  dead. 

My  Captain  does  not  answer,  his  lips  are  pale  and 

still, 
My  father  does  not  feel  my  arm,  he  has  no  pulse  nor 

will, 
The   ship  is   anchor'd    safe   and   sound,  its  voyage 

closed  and  done, 
From  fearful  trip  the  victor  ship  comes  in  with  object 
won ; 

Exult  oi  shores,  and  ring  O  bells! 
But  I  with  mournful  tread, 

Walk  the  deck  my  Captain  lies, 
Fallen  cold  and  dead. 


PART  VII 
ON   DECK 


89.    Attack  on  Fort  Fisher 

By  Robley  D.  Evans  (1865) 

Fort  Fisher  Admiral  Porter  assumed  command  in  November, 
mouth  of  the6  anc^  at  once  began  assembling  a  powerful  fleet. 
Cape  Fear  Every  preparation  was  made  for  active  service, 
wliminffton  Boilers  and  machinery  were  overhauled,  magazines, 
North  Caro-  shell-rooms,  and  storehouses  replenished,  and  con- 
lma,  a  favor-    s^ant  target  practice  was  had  with  all  guns.     By  the 

ite  entrance  111  n 

for  blockade  end  of  November  the  largest  fleet  ever  seen  under 
runners.  ^Q  American  flag  was  assembled  in  Hampton  Roads, 
lying  at  all  classes,  from  the  largest  monitor  to  the  smallest 

Hampton  gunboat,  being  represented.  Our  destination  was  a 
secret,  carefully  guarded ;  but  we  surmised  from  what 
was  taking  place  that  some  important  move  was  con- 
templated, and  in  this  we  were  not  mistaken.  It  was 
evident  from  the  daily  target  practice  that  the  Ad- 
miral meant  we  should  hit  something  when  the  time 
for  action  came,  and  the  landing  of  the  men  on  the 
beach  for  drill  was  an  indication  of  possible  shore 
service. 

Early  in  December  the  troop  ships  arrived — thir- 
teen thousand  men  under  General   B.    F.    Butler  — 

342 


Roads,  Vir- 
ginia. 


no.  89]      Attack  on  Fort  Fisher       343 

and  still  our  destination  was  a  secret.  Toward  the 
middle  of  December  all  our  preparations  had  been 
completed,  and  we  put  to  sea  under  sealed  orders. 

Before  leaving  Fortress  Monroe,  General  Butler 
had  proposed  a  powder  boat,  by  the  explosion  of 
which  he  hoped  seriously  to  injure  the  forts  on  Fed- 
eral Point,  including  Fort  Fisher.  Indeed  he  was 
confident  that  he  would  dismount  most  of  the  guns 
and  level  the  works.  An  old  steamer,  the  Georgiana, 
had  been  loaded  with  several  hundred  tons  of  pow- 
der, and  turned  over  to  the  navy  to  explode  at  the 
proper  spot.  A  crew  of  volunteers  had  her  in  charge, 
and  on  the  evening  of  December  24,  took  her  in  for 
the  final  act  of  her  career.  No  man  in  the  navy 
believed  for  a  moment  that  she  would  do  much  harm, 
but  none  of  us  anticipated  how  little  injury  would 
come  from  the  explosion. 

At  eleven  o'clock  that  night  Admiral  Porter 
steamed  about  the  fleet  in  his  flagship,  the  side- 
wheeled  steamer  Malvern,  and  made  signal :  "  Powder 
boat  will  blow  up  at  1.30  a.m.  Be  prepared  to  get 
under  way,  and  stand  in  to  engage  the  fort !  "  After 
that  there  was  no  sleep  for  any  one  ;  we  stood  and 
watched  and  waited  as  the  hours  slowly  dragged  by. 
Half-past  one  came  and  no  explosion,  and  we  were 
fearful  of  some  mishap  ;  but  just  as  the  bells  struck 
two  o'clock  it  came.  First  came  a  gentle  vibration, 
then  the  masts  and  spars  shook  as  if  they  would 
come  down  about  our  ears ;  and  then  came  the  low 
rumble  like  distant  thunder,  while  the  sky  to  the 
westward  was  lighted  up  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then 
great  masses  of  powder  smoke  hung  over  the  land 
like  thunder  clouds.  Surely  the  powder  boat  had 
blown  up,  and  as  the  fleet  rapidly  formed  for  battle 


344 


On  Deck 


[No.  89 


there  was  great  curiosity  everywhere  to  see  what  the 
effect  had  been. 

At  daylight  we  were  heading  in  for  the  fort,  and 
almost  in  range,  when  we  saw  General  Butler's  flag- 
ship coming  in  at  full  speed,  heading  straight  at  Fort 
Fisher,  which  looked  to  us  very  grim  and  strong  and 
totally  uninjured.  Everything  was  very  quiet  until 
the  General  got  fairly  within  range,  when  there  was 
a  flash  from  the  fort  and  a  ^prolonged  roar,  and  all 


THE   FIRST   U.    S.    IRONCLAD. 

the  guns  on  the  face  of  that  work  opened  on  his 
ship.  If  he  had  had  any  notion  that  he  could  land 
unopposed  he  was  quickly  undeceived,  and  the  way 
that  ship  turned  and  got  off  shore  spoke  well  for  the 
energy  of  her  fire-room  force !  The  last  we  saw  of 
her  she  was  running  east  as  fast  as  her  engines  could 
carry  her.  The  powder  boat  had  proved  a  failure, 
and  the  General  was  grievously  disappointed.  A 
rebel  newspaper  reported  that  a  Yankee  gunboat  had 
blown  up  on  the  beach  and  all  hands  lost. 


No.  89]      Attack  on  Fort  Fisher       345 

We  had  been  up  many  of  us  all  night  and  our 
only  breakfast  had  been  coffee  and  hard-tack.  As 
we  approached  our  position,  Commodore  Schenck 
sent  me  aloft  with  a  pair  of  glasses  to  locate,  if  possi- 
ble, some  guns  that  were  annoying  him.  It  was  a 
raw  cold  morning,  and  I  had  on  a  short  double- 
breasted  coat,  in  the  pockets  of  which  I  had  stowed 
several  pieces  of  hard-tack.  When  I  had  taken  my 
place  in  the  mizzen  rigging,  just  below  the  top,  I  put 
the  corner  of  a  hard-tack  in  my  mouth,  and  was  hold- 
ing it  between  my  teeth  while  I  looked  through  the 
glasses  for  the  guns.  I  caught  them  at  once,  and 
saw  gunners  train  one  of  them  around  until  I  could 
only  see  the  muzzle  of  it,  which  interested  me  be- 
cause I  knew  it  was  pointing  directly  at  us.  There 
was  a  puff  of  smoke,  something  like  a  lamp-post 
crossed  the  field  of  the  glass,  and  a  moment  after  the 
rigging  was  cut  four  feet  below  me,  and  I  swung  into 
the  mast.  I  at  once  thought  of  my  hard-tack,  but  it 
was  gone,  and  I  never  found  even  a  crumb  of  it.  I 
am  sure  that  I  swallowed  it  whole.  When  I  had 
reported  what  I  had  made  out  of  the  battery,  I  was 
directed  to  lay  down  from  aloft  to  my  station,  which 
was  in  charge  of  the  after  division  of  the  guns ;  but  I 
hesitated  to  do  so,  because  my  knees  were  shaking, 
and  I  was  afraid  the  men  would  see  it.  However,  I 
had  to  come  down,  and  as  soon  as  I  reached  the 
deck,  I  stood  up  and  looked  at  my  legs,  and  was 
greatly  relieved  to  find  that  they  did  not  show  the 
nervous  tremor  which  worried  me  so.  I  soon  forgot 
all  abou  it  as  I  became  interested  and  warmed  up  to 
my  work. 

We  had  only  eighteen  inches  of  water  under  us  /.<?.,  between 
when  we  finally  anchored  and  began  firing  rapidly  in  th^  bottom! 


346 


On  Deck  [No.  89 


obedience  to  signal  from  the  Admiral.  There  was  a 
wreck  of  a  blockade-runner  between  us  and  the  bat- 
tery at  which  we  were  to  fire,  and  it  was  evident  that 
this  had  been  used  as  a  target  and  that  the  range  was 
well  known.  One  or  two  shots  were  fired  in  line 
with  it,  each  one  coming  closer  to  us,  and  then  they 
struck  us  with  a  ten-inch  shot.  Four  more  followed, 
each  one  striking  nearly  in  the  same  place,  on  the 
bends  forward  of  the  starboard  wheel,  and  going 
through  on  to  the  berth  deck.  Then  for  some  reason 
the  shot  and  shell  began  going  over  us,  striking  the 
water  thirty  or  forty  feet  away.  Probably  the  gun- 
ners on  shore  could  not  see  the  splash  of  these  shots, 
and  thought  they  were  striking  us.  If  they  had  not 
changed  their  range  when  they  did  they  would  have 
sunk  us  in  an  hour.  As  it  was,  we  hauled  out  at 
sundown,  pretty  well  hammered,  and  leaking  so  that 
we  had  to  shift  all  our  guns  to  port  in  order  to  stop 
the  shot  holes. 

We  had  damaged  the  fort  to  the  extent  of  dis- 
mounting some  of  the  guns  and  burning  the  barracks 
and  officers'  quarters.  When  the  whole  line  was 
fairly  engaged  the  sight  was  magnificent,  and  never 
to  be  forgotten  by  those  who  saw  it.  No  fort  had 
ever  before  been  subjected  to  such  a  fire,  and  the 
garrison  could  only  make  a  feeble  response  ;  most  of 
them  were  driven  into  the  bomb-proofs,  where  they 
remained  till  we  hauled  off  for  the  night.  The 
heaviest  losses  on  our  side  had  been  caused  by  the 
bursting  of  the  one-hundred  pound  Parrott  rifles ; 
thirty-five  or  forty  men  had  been  killed  or  wounded 
in  this  way. 


no.  go]         Porter  and  Ericsson  34.7 

90.    The  Man  Who  made  the 
Monitor 

By  Admiral  David  Porter  (1863) 

While  I  was  fitting  out  the  mortar  flotilla,  "  Erics-  John  Erics- 
son's iron  pot "  was  approaching  completion,  and  I  b^bfrth^uf 
received  orders  from  the  Navy  Department  to  make  a'genuine 
a  critical  examination  of  the  vessel   and  report    my  American  in 

•     •  r    1  i-T-  at  i-i  his  way. 

opinion  of  her  capabilities.  After  this  duty  was  ac- 
complished I  was  ordered  to  proceed  to  Mystic,  Con- 
necticut, and  examine  the  Galena,  a  wooden  vessel 
sheathed  with  iron  plates,  building  there  under  the 
supervision  of  Commodore  Joseph  Smith. 

Arriving  at  New  York,  I  called  on  Mr.  Ericsson 
and  showed  him  my  orders.  He  read  them,  looked 
at  me  attentively,  and  said  :  "  Well,  you  are  no  doubt 
a  great  mathematician,  and  know  all  about  the  calcu- 
lations which  enter  into  the  construction  of  my  vessel. 
You  will  have  many  papers  to  examine ;  help  your- 
self, and  take  what  you  like  best." 

"I  am  no  great  mathematician,"  I  replied,  "but  I 
am  a  practical  man,  and  think  I  can  ascertain  whether 
or  not  the  Monitor  will  do  what  is  promised  for  her." 

"  Ah,  yes  !  "  exclaimed  Ericsson,  "  a  practical  man  ! 
Well,  I've  had  a  dozen  of  those  fellows  here  already, 
and  they  went  away  as  wise  as  they  came.  I  don't 
want  practical  men  sent  here,  sir.  I  want  men  who 
understand  the  higher  mathematics  that  are  used  in 
the  construction  of  my  vessel  —  men  who  can  work 
out  the  displacements,  horse-power,  impregnability, 
endurance  at  sea  in  a  gale,  capacity  to  stow  men,  the 
motion  of  the  vessel  according  to  the  waves,  her  sta- 


348 


On   Deck  [No.  90 


bility  as  a  platform  for  guns,  her  speed,  actual  weight 
—  in  short,  everything  pertaining  to  the  subject. 
Now,  young  man,  if  you  can't  fathom  these  things 
you  had  better  go  back  where  you  came  from.  If 
the  department  wants  to  understand  the  principles  of 
my  vessel,  they  should  send  a  mathematician." 

"Well,"  said  I,  as  the  inventor  paused  to  take 
breath,  "  although  I  am  not  strictly  what  you  would 
call  a  mathematician,  I  know  the  rule  of  three,  and 
that  twice  two  are  four." 

Ericsson  looked  hard  at  me,  his  hair  bristled  up, 
and  the  muscles  of  his  brawny  arms  seemed  to  swell 
as  if  in  expectation  of  having  to  eject  me  from  the 
room.  "Well!"  he  exclaimed,  "I  never  in  all  my 
life  met  with  such  assurance  as  this.  Here  the  Gov- 
ernment sends  me  an  officer  who  knows  only  the  rule 
of  three  and  that  twice  two  are  four,  and  I  have  used 
the  calculus  and  all  the  higher  mathematics  in  mak- 
ing my  calculations. 

"  But,"  said  I,  apologetically,  "  I  know  a  little  of 
simple  equations.  Won't  that  be  sufficient  to  make 
me  understand  this  machine  of  yours?  " 

"  Worse  and  worse  !  "  exclaimed  the  inventor.  "  It 
would  be  better  if  you  knew  nothing.  Here's  a  man 
who  tells  me  he  knows  a  little  of  simple  equations, 
and  they  send  him  to  examine  John  Ericsson  ! " 

I  was  greatly  amused  with  this  remarkable  man, 
and  entirely  forgave  his  peculiarities.  "  Well,  Mr. 
Ericsson,"  I  said,  "you  will  have  to  make  the  best 
of  a  bad  bargain,  and  get  along  with  me  as  well  as 
you  possibly  can.  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  receive 
instruction  from  you." 

"  Ah,  ha !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  that's  it,  is  it  ?  and  so 
you  think  me  a  school-master  to  teach  naval  officers 


no.  90]        Porter  and  Ericsson 


349 


what  I  know  ?  I'm  afraid  you're  too  bad  a  bargain 
for  me ;  you  must  expect  no  instruction  here.  Take 
what  you  like  best  from  my  shelves,  but  you  can't 
have  my  brains." 

"Well,  then,"  I  said,  "show  me  your  plans  in  or- 
der, and,  if  you  won't  explain  them,  let  me  see  what  I 
can  make  of  them." 

"Ah,  young  man  !  "  said  Ericsson,  "with  your  lim- 
ited knowledge  of  simple  equations  you  will  run 
aground  in  a  very  short  time.  Look  at  this  drawing 
and  tell  me  what  it  represents." 

"  It  looks  to  me  like  a  coffee-mill,"  I  answered. 

Ericsson  jumped  from  his  chair  with  astonishment 
in  his  eye.  "  On  my  word  of  honor,  young  man,  you 
are  vexing,  and  I  am  a  fool  to  waste  my  time  on  you. 
That  is  the  machinery  that  works  my  turn-table  for 
the  turret.  I  have  spent  many  sleepless  nights  over 
it,  and  now  a  man  who  only  knows  a  little  of  simple 
equations  tells  me  it's  a  coffee-mill !  Now  what  do 
you  think  of  that  ? "  continued  Mr.  Ericsson,  handing 
me  a  small  wooden  model;  "that's  my  'iron  pot,'  as 
you  navy  people  call  it." 

I  regarded  the  model  with  a  critical  eye,  holding  it 
upside  down.  "This,"  I  remarked,  "is  evidently  the 
casemate"  —  passing  my  hand  over  the  bottom  — 
"  and  this  "  —  pointing  to  the  turret  —  "  is  undoubt- 
edly where  you  carry  the  engine." 

"Well!  well!"  exclaimed  Ericsson;  "never  did  I 
see  such  a  —  But  never  mind  ;  you  will  learn  by  and 
by  the  world  was  not  made  in  a  day." 

So  we  went  on  till  at  length  I  informed  Mr.  Erics- 
son that  I  thought  I  understood  all  about  his  "  iron 
pot." 

He  was  not  in  a  pleasant  humor,  evidently  regard- 


The  Monitor 
was  built  on 
a  new  plan  ; 
the  two  guns 
were  set  in  a 
revolving 
turret. 


3  5°  On  Deck  [No.  go 

ing  me  as  an  emissary  sent  by  the  department  to  try 
and  bring  him  to  grief.  As  he  did  not  seem  to  be  in 
a  communicative  frame  of  mind,  I  took  a  malicious 
pleasure  in  worrying  him. 

After  learning  all  I  could  possibly  from  the  draw- 
ings and  plans  of  the  Monitor,  I  proposed  to  the  in- 
ventor to  go  and  examine  the  Simon-pure  article,  and 
we  crossed  the  ferry  to  Greenpoint,  where,  if  I  re- 
member rightly,  the  vessel  was  building. 

Taking  off  my  coat,  I  penetrated  to  the  innermost 
recesses  of  the  Monitor,  followed  by  Mr.  Ericsson, 
who  more  than  once  inquired  if  my  simple  equations 
enabled  me  to  comprehend  the  mysteries. 

"  Wait  till  I  am  done  with  you,"  I  said ;  "  then  the 
laugh  will  be  on  you,  and  you'll  see  what  my  simple 
equations  amount  to." 

"  No  doubt!  no  doubt!"  he  replied,  "but  it  will 
take  a  big  book  to  hold  all  you  don't  know  when  you 
get  through." 

At  last,  after  an  hour  spent  in  examining  the  vessel, 
I  emerged  from  the  hold,  followed  by  the  inventor, 
who  looked  displeased  enough.  "  Now,  sir,"  I  said, 
"  I  know  all  about  your  machine." 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  sneeringly,  "and  you  know 
twice  two  are  four,  and  a  little  of  simple  equations." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Ericsson,"  I  said,  "  I  have  borne  a  good 
deal  from  you  to-day  ;  you  have  mocked  at  my  author- 
ity and  have  failed  to  treat  me  with  the  sweetness  I 
had  a  right  to  expect.  I  am  about  to  have  satisfac- 
tion, for  on  my  report  depends  whether  or  not  your 
vessel  is  accepted  by  the  department;  so  I  will  tell 
you  in  plain  terms  what  I  think  of  your  '  iron 
pot.'  " 

"  Say  what  you  please,"  exclaimed  Ericsson,  glar- 


No.  90]     Monitor  and  Merrimac      351 

ing  at  me  like  a  tiger  ready  to  spring ;  "  nobody  will 
mind  what  you  say  !  " 

"Well,  sir,"  I  continued,  "  I  have  looked  into  the 
whole,  thing  from  A  to  Izzard,  and  "  — gazing  steadily 
at  the  inventor,  not  without  apprehensions  that  he 
might  seize  me  in  his  muscular  arms  and  squeeze  the 
breath  out  of  my  body  —  "I  will  say  this  to  the  Gov- 
ernment—  in  writing,  too,  so  that  there  can  be  no 
mistake." 

"Go  on,  sir,  go  on !  "  said  Ericsson  ;  "you  will  run 
on  a  rock  directly." 

"Well,  then,"  I  continued,  "I  will  say  that  Mr. 
Ericsson  has  constructed  a  vessel  —  a  very  little  iron 
vessel  —  which,  in  the  opinion  of  our  best  naval  archi- 
tect, is  in  violation  of  well-known  principles,  and 
will  sink  the  moment  she  touches  the  water." 

"  Oh,"  said  Ericsson,  "  he's  a  fool !  " 

"  But,"  I  continued,  "  I  shall  say,  also,  that  Mr. 
Ericsson  has  constructed  the  most  remarkable  vessel 
the  world  has  ever  seen  —  one  that,  if  properly  handled, 
can  destroy  any  ship  now  afloat,  and  whip  a  dozen 
wooden  ships  together  if  they  were  where  they  could 
not  manoeuvre  so  as  to  run  her  down." 

Ericsson  regarded  me  in  astonishment,  then  seized 
my  hand  and  almost  shook  my  arm  off.  "  To  think  !  " 
he  exclaimed,  "  that  all  this  time  I  took  you  for  a 
fool,  and  you  are  not  a  fool  after  all !  " 

I  laughed  heartily,  as  did  Ericsson,  and  we  have 
been  the  best  of  friends  ever  since. 

I  telegraphed  at  once  to  the  Navy  Department, 
"  Mr.  Ericsson's  vessel  is  the  best  fighting  machine 
ever  invented,  and  can  destroy  any  ship  of  war  afloat." 

After  examining  the  Galena,  I  telegraphed,  "  I  am 
not  satisfied  with  the  vessel;  she  is  too  vulnerable." 


352  On  Deck  [No.  9i 

On  my  return  to  Washington  I  met  a  high  offi- 
cial of  the  navy,  who  said  to  me  :  "  We  received  your 
telegram  about  the  Ericsson  vessel.  Why,  man, 
Lenthall  says  she  will  sink  as  soon  as  she  is  launched. 
He  has  made  a  calculation,  and  finds  she  will  not 
bear  her  iron,  much  less  her  guns  and  stores." 

Both  Fox  and  Lenthall  soon  had  reason  to  change 
their  opinions  on  this  subject;  both  became  strong 
advocates  of  Ericsson's  system,  and  in  a  short  time  a 
number  of  much  larger  vessels  of  a  similar  type  with 
the  Monitor  were  commenced,  but  were  not  finished 
in  time  to  be  of  use  in  the  most  critical  period  of  the 
civil  war,  when  we  came  near  meeting  with  serious 
reverses  owing  to  the  great  energy  displayed  by  the 
Confederates  in  improvising  heavy  iron-clads. 

To  Ericsson  belongs  the  credit  of  devising  the  Mon- 
itor class  of  vessels,  which  gave  us  a  cheap  and  rapid 
mode  of  building  a  navy  suitable  to  our  wants  at  the 
time.  Through  his  genius  we  were  enabled  to  bid 
defiance  to  the  maritime  powers  which  seemed  dis- 
posed to  meddle  with  our  affairs,  and  it  was  owing  to 
him  that  at  the  end  of  the  civil  war  we  were  in  a  condi- 
tion to  prevent  any  hostile  navy  from  entering  our 
ports. 


g i.    The  Little  Monitor  and  the 
Merrimac 

By  Charles  Martin  (1862) 

Companions  :  I  will  tell  you  what  I  saw  at  New- 
port News  when  the  Mej'rimac  destroyed  the  Congress 
and  the  Cumberland,  and  fought  with  the  Monitor.     It 


354  On  Deck  [No.  9i 

was  a  drama  in  three  acts,  and  twelve  hours  will  elapse 
between  the  second  and  third  acts. 

"  Let  us  begin  at  the  beginning"  —  1861.  The 
North  Atlantic  squadron  is  at  Hampton  Roads,  ex- 
cept the  frigate  Congress  and  the  razee  Cumberland ; 
they  are  anchored  at  Newport  News,  blockading  the 
James  River  and  Norfolk.  The  Merrimac,  the  rebel 
ram,  is  in  the  dry  dock  of  the  Norfolk  navy-yard. 
The  MerH-  The  Monitor  is  building  in  New  York  City.  It  is 
mac  had  been  determined  to  keep  the  Merrimac  in  the  dry  dock, 

a  wooden  .  *  J 

vessel  in  the  wait  the  arrival  of  the  Monitor,  send  her  out  to  meet 

old  navy,  but  her,  and  in  the  action  it  is  positive  that  an  opportu- 

and  built  up  n*ty  w^  offer  to  pierce  and  sink  her.     The  ram  is  a 

with  sloping  terror,    and   both    sides    say,  "When   the   Merrimac 

bow  plates.        comes  Qut  ,  „       The  lagt  of  February>    l862>  the  Moni_ 

tor  is  ready  for  sea  ;  she  will  sail  for  Hampton  Roads 
in  charge  of  a  steamer.  There  is  a  rumor  that  she 
has  broken  her  steering  gear  before  reaching  Sandy 
Hook.  She  will  be  towed  to  Washington  for  repairs. 
The  Rebel  spies  report  her  a  failure  —  steering  defec- 
tive, turret  revolves  with  difficulty,  and  when  the 
smoke  of  her  guns  in  action  is  added  to  the  defects  of 
ventilation,  it  will  be  impossible  for  human  beings  to 
live  aboard  of  her.  No  Monitor  to  fight,  the  South- 
ern press  and  people  grumble  ;  they  pitch  into  the 
Merrimac.  Why  does  she  lie  idle  ?  Send  her  out  to 
destroy  the  Congress  and  the  Cumberland,  that  have 
so  long  bullied  Norfolk,  then  sweep  away  the  fleet  at 
Hampton  Roads,  starve  out  Fortress  Monroe,  go 
north  to  Baltimore  and  New  York  and  Boston,  and 
destroy  and  plunder  ;  and  the  voice  of  the  people, 
not  always  an  inspiration,  prevails,  and  the  ram  is 
floated  and  manned  and  armed,  and  March  8th  is 
bright  and  sunny  when  she  steams  down  the  Eliza- 


no.  91]     Monitor  and  Merrimac      355 

beth  River  to  carry  out  the  first  part  of  her  pro- 
gramme. And  all  Norfolk  and  Portsmouth  ride  and 
run  to  the  bank  of  the  James,  to  have  a  picnic,  and 
assist  at  a  naval  battle  and  victory.  The  cry  of 
"  Wolf  !  "  has  so  often  been  heard  aboard  the  ships 
that  the  Merrimac  has  lost  much  of  her  terrors. 
They  argue  :  "  If  she  is  a  success,  why  doesn't  she 
come  out  and  destroy  us  ? "  And  when  seen  this 
morning  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  :  "  It  is  only  a  trial 
trip  or  a  demonstration."  But  she  creeps  along  the* 
opposite  shore,  and  both  ships  beat  to  quarters  and 
get  ready  for  action.  The  boats  of  the  Cumberland 
are  lowered,  made  fast  to  each  other  in  line,  anchored 
between  the  ship  and  the  shore,  about  an  eighth  of 
a  mile  distant. 

Here  are  two  large  sailing  frigates  on  a  calm  day, 
at  slack  water,  anchored  in  a  narrow  channel,  impos- 
sible to  get  under  weigh  and  manoeuvre,  and  must  lie 
and  hammer,  and  be  hammered,  so  long  as  they  hold 
together,  or  until  they  sink  at  their  anchors.  To 
help  them  is  a  tug,  the  Zouave,  once  used  in  the  basin 
at  Albany  to  tow  canal  boats  under  the  grain  elevator. 
The  Congress  is  the  senior  ship ;  the  tug  makes  fast 
to  her.  The  Congress  slips  her  cable  and  tries  to  get 
under  weigh.  The  tug  does  her  best  and  breaks  her 
engine.  The  Congress  goes  aground  in  line  with  the 
shore.  The  Zouave  floats  down  the  river,  firing  her 
pop-guns  at  the  Merrimac  as  she  drifts  by  her.  The 
command  of  both  the  ships  devolves  on  the  first  lieu- 
tenants. On  board  the  Cumberland  all  hands  are 
allowed  to  remain  on  deck,  watching  the  slow  ap- 
proach of  the  Merrimac,  and  she  comes  on  so  slowly, 
the  pilot  declares  she  has  missed  the  channel ;  she 
draws  too  much  water  to  use  her  ram.     She  continues 


356 


On  Deck  [No.  91 


to  advance,  and  two  gun-boats,  the  Yorktown  and  the 
Teazer,  accompany  her.  Again  they  beat  to  quarters, 
and  every  one  goes  to  his  station.  There  is  a  plat- 
form on  the  roof  of  the  Merrimac.  Her  captain  is 
standing  on  it.  When  she  is  near  enough,  he  hails, 
"  Do  you  surrender?  "  "  Never  !  "  is  the  reply.  The 
order  to  fire  is  given ;  the  shot  of  the  starboard  bat- 
tery rattles  on  the  iron  roof  of  the  Merrimac.  She 
answers  with  a  shell ;  it  sweeps  the  forward  pivot 
'gun,  it  kills  and  wounds  ten  of  the  gun's  crew.  A 
second  slaughters  the  marines  at  the  after  pivot  gun. 
The  Yorktown  and  the  Teazer  keep  up  a  constant 
-fire.  She  bears  down  on  the  Cumberland.  She  rams 
her  just  aft  the  starboard  bow.  The  ram  goes  into 
the  sides  of  the  ship  as  a  knife  goes  into  a  cheese. 
The  Merrimac  tries  to  back  out ;  the  tide  is  making  ;  it 
catches  against  her  great  length  at  a  right  angle  with 
the  Cumberland ;  it  slews  her  around  ;  the  weakened, 
lengthened  ram  breaks  off;  she  leaves  it  in  the  Cum- 
berland. The  battle  rages,  broadside  answers  broad- 
side, and  the  sanded  deck  is  red  and  slippery  with 
the  blood  of  the  wounded  and  dying  ;  they  are  dragged 
amidships  out  of  the  way  of  the  guns  ;  there  is  no 
one  and  no  time  to  take  them  below.  Delirium  seizes 
the  crew ;  they  strip  to  their  trousers,  tie  their  hand- 
kerchiefs round  their  heads,  kick  off  their  shoes,  fight 
and  yell  like  demons,  load  and  fire  at  will,  keep  it  up 
for  the  rest  of  the  forty-two  minutes  the  ship  is  sink- 
ing, and  fire  a  last  gun  as  the  water  rushes  into  her 
ports. 

The  MenHmac  turns  to  the  Congress.  She  is 
aground,  but  she  fires  her  guns  till  the  red-hot  shot 
from  the  enemy  sets  her  on  fire,  and  the  flames  drive 
the  men  away  from  the  battery.     She  has  forty  years 


no.  91]      Monitor  and  Merrimac      357 

of  seasoning  ;  she  burns  like  a  torch.  Her  command- 
ing officer  is  killed,  and  her  deck  strewn  with  killed 
and  wounded.  The  wind  is  off  shore  ;  they  drag  the 
wounded  under  the  windward  bulwark,  where  all 
hands  take  refuge  from  the  flames.  The  sharp- 
shooters on  shore  drive  away  a  tug  from  the  enemy. 
The  crew  and  wounded  of  the  Congress  are  safely 
landed.  She  burns  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  and 
evening,  discharging  her  loaded  guns  over  the  camp. 
At  midnight  the  fire  has  reached  her  magazines  —  the 
Congress  disappears. 

When  it  is  signalled  to  the  fleet  at  Hampton  Roads 
that  the  Merrimac  has  come  out,  the  Minnesota  leaves 
her  anchorage  and  hastens  to  join  the  battle.  Her 
pilot  puts  her  aground  off  the  Elizabeth  River,  and  she 
lies  there  helpless.  The  Merrimac  has  turned  back 
for  Norfolk.  She  has  suffered  from  the  shot  of  the 
Congress  and  the  Cumberland,  or  she  would  stop  and 
destroy  the  Minnesota ;  instead,  with  the  Yorktown 
and  Teazer,  she  goes  back  into  the  river.  Sunday 
morning,  March  9th,  the  Merrimac  is  coming  out 
to  finish  her  work.  She  will  destroy  the  Minnesota. 
As  she  nears  her,  the  Monitor  appears  from  behind 
the  helpless  ship  ;  she  has  slipped  in  during  the 
night,  and  so  quietly,  her  presence  is  unknown  in 
the  camp.  And  David  goes  out  to  meet  Goliath,  and 
every  man  who  can  walk  to  the  beach  sits  down 
there,  spectators  of  the  first  iron-clad  battle  in  the 
world.  The  day  is  calm,  the  smoke  hangs  thick  on 
the  water,  the  low  vessels  are  hidden  by  the  smoke. 
They  are  so  sure  of  their  invulnerability,  they  fight  at 
arm's  length.  They  fight  so  near  the  shore,  the  flash 
of  their  guns  is  seen,  and  the  noise  is  heard  of  the 
heavy  shot  pounding  the  armor.     They  haul  out  for 


358 


On  Deck 


[No.  92 


The  Merri- 
mac never 
tried  another 
fight  and  was 
at  last  de- 
stroyed by 
the  rebels. 


breath,  and  again  disappear  in  the  smoke.  The 
Merrimac  stops  firing,  the  smoke  lifts,  she  is  running 
down  the  Monitor,  but  she  has  left  her  ram  in  the 
Cumberland.  The  Monitor  slips  away,  turns,  and 
renews  the  action.  One  p.m.  —  they  have  fought 
since  8.30  a.m.  The  crews  of  both  ships  are  suffocat- 
ing under  the  armor.  The  frames  supporting  the 
iron  roof  of  the  Merrimac  are  sprung  and  shattered. 
The  turret  of  the  Monitor  is  dented  with  shot,  and  is 
revolved  with  difficulty.  The  captain  of  the  Merri- 
mac is  wounded  in  the  leg  ;  the  captain  of  the  Monitor 
is  blinded  with  powder.  It  is  a  drawn  game.  The 
Merrimac,  leaking  badly,  goes  back  to  Norfolk ;  the 
Monitor  returns  to  Hampton  Roads. 


Nassau,  a 
harbor  in  the 
British  Ba- 
hamas. 
The  block- 
ade runners 
carried  in 
arms  and 
other  war 
material,  and 
carried  out 
cotton,  al- 
ways at  risk 
of  capture  by 
•the  Union 
vessels  sta- 
tioned there 
for  that  pur- 
pose. 


92.    Chasing   a    Blockade-runner 

By  Captain  John  Wilkinson  (1863) 

We  were  ready  to  sail  for  Nassua  on  the  1 5th  of 
August,  1863,  and  had  on  board,  as  usual,  several 
passengers.  We  passed  safely  through  the  blockad- 
ing fleet  off  the  New  Inlet  Bar,  receiving  no  damage 
from  the  few  shots  fired  at  us,  and  gained  an  offing 
from  the  coast  of  thirty  miles  by  daylight. 

Very  soon  afterwards  the  vigilant  lookout  at  the 
mast  head  called  out  "  Sail  ho  !  "  and  in  reply  to  the 
"where  away"  from  the  deck,  sang  out,  "Right 
astern,  sir,  and  in  chase."  The  morning  was  very 
clear.  Going  to  the  mast  head  I  could  just  discern 
the  royal  of  the  chaser,  and  before  I  left  there,  say  in 
half  an  hour,  her  top-gallant  sail  showed  above  the 
horizon.     By  this  time  the  sun  had  risen  in  a  cloud- 


no.  92]  Blockade-running  359 

less  sky.  It  was  evident  our  pursuer  would  be  along 
side  of  us  at  midday  at  the  rate  we  were  then  going. 
The  first  orders  were  to  throw  overboard  the  deck- 
load  of  cotton,  and  to  make  more  steam:  the  latter 
proved  to  be  more  easily  given  than  executed ;  for 
the  chief  engineer  reported  that  it  was  impossible  to 
make  steam  with  the  wretched  stuff  filled  with  slate 
and  dirt. 


ARRIVAL   OF   MAIL   ON    PASSAIC. 


A  moderate  breeze  from  the  north  and  east  had 
been  blowing  ever  since  daylight,  and  every  stitch  of 
canvas  on  board  the  square  rigged  steamer  in  our 
wake  was  drawing.  We  were  steering  east  by  south, 
and  it  was  clear  that  the  chaser's  advantages  could 
only  be  neutralized  either  by  bringing  the  Lee  gradu- 


36o 


On  Deck  [No.  92 


ally  head  to  wind  or  edging  away  to  bring  the  wind 
aft.  The  former  course  would  be  running  toward  the 
land,  besides  incurring  the  additional  risk  of  being 
intercepted  and  captured  by  some  of  the  inshore 
cruisers.  I  began  to  edge  away  therefore,  and  in 
two  or  three  hours  enjoyed  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
our  pursuer  slow  up  and  furl  his  sails. 

The  breeze  was  still  blowing  as  fresh  as  in  the 
morning,  but  we  were  now  running  directly  away 
from  it,  and  the  cruiser  was  going  literally  as  fast  as 
the  wind,  causing  the  sails  to  be  rather  a  hindrance 
than  a  help.  But  she  was  still  gaining  on  us.  A 
happy  inspiration  occurred  to  me  when  the  case 
seemed  hopeless.  Sending  for  the  chief  engineer  I 
said,  "  Mr.  Simoine,  let  us  try  cotton  saturated  with 
spirits  of  turpentine."  There  were  on  board,  as  part 
of  the  deck-load,  thirty  or  forty  barrels  of  spirits.  In 
a  very  few  moments,  a  'bale  of  cotton  was  ripped 
open,  a  barrel  tapped,  and  buckets  full  of  the  satu- 
rated material  passed  down  into  the  fire  room. 

The  result  exceeded  our  expectations.  The  chief 
engineer,  an  excitable  little  Frenchman,  from  Charles- 
ton, very  soon  made  his  appearance  on  the  bridge, 
his  eyes  sparkling  with  triumph,  and  reported  a  full 
head  of  steam.  Curious  to  see  the  effect  upon  our 
speed,  I  directed  him  to  wait  a  moment  until  the  log 
was  hove.  I  threw  it  myself,  nine  and  a  half  knots. 
"  Let  her  go  now,  sir !  "  I  said.  Five  minutes  after- 
ward, I  hove  the  log  again  ;  —  thirteen  and  a  quarter. 
We  now  began  to  hold  our  own,  and  even  to  gain  a 
little  upon  the  chaser  ;  but  she  was  fearfully  near,  and 
Fort  Warren,  I  began  to  have  visions  of  another  residence  at  Fort 
m  Boston        Warren,  as  I  saw  what  seamen  call  the  "big  bone  in 

harbor,  used  ° 

as  a  prison,     the  mouth  "  of  our  pertinacious  friend,  for  she  was 


no.  92]  Blockade-running  361 

near  enough  to  us  at  one  time  for  us  to  see  distinctly 
the  white  curl  of  foam  under  her  bows.  I  wonder 
if  they  could  have  screwed  another  turn  of  speed 
out  of  her  if  they  had  known  that  the  Lee  had  on 
board,  in  addition  to  her  cargo  of  cotton,  a  large 
amount  of  gold  shipped  by  the  Confederate  govern- 
ment ? 

There  continued  to  be  a  very  slight  change  in  our 
relative  positions  till  about  six  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, when  the  chief  engineer  again  made  his  appear- 
ance, with  a  very  ominous  expression  of  countenance. 
He  came  to  report  that  the  burnt  cotton  had  choked 
the  flues,  and  that  the  steam  was  running  down. 
"Only  keep  her  going  till  dark,  sir,"  I  replied,  "and 
we  will  give  our  pursuer  the  slip  yet."  A  heavy 
bank  was  lying  along  the  horizon  to  the  south  and 
east,  and  I  saw  a  possible  means  of  escape.  At  sun- 
set the  chaser  was  about  four  miles  astern,  and  gain- 
ing upon  us.  Calling  two  of  my  most  reliable  officers, 
I  stationed  one  of  them  on  each  wheel-house,  with 
glasses,  directing  them  to  let  me  know  the  instant 
they  lost  sight  of  the  chaser  in  the  growing  darkness. 
At  the  same  time  I  ordered  the  chief  engineer  to 
make  as  black  a  smoke  as  possible,  and  to  be  in  readi- 
ness to  cut  off  the  smoke,  by  closing  the  dampers 
instantly,  when  ordered.  The  twilight  was  soon  suc- 
ceeded by  darkness.  Both  of  the  officers  on  the 
wheel-house  called  out  at  the  same  moment,  "  We 
have  lost  sight  of  her,"  while  a  dense  volume  of 
smoke  was  streaming  far  in  our  wake.  "  Close  the 
dampers,"  I  called  out  through  the  speaking  tube, 
and  at  the  same  moment  ordered  the  helm  hard  a 
star-board.  Our  course  was  altered  eight  points,  at  a 
right  angle  to  the  previous  one.     I  remained  on  deck 


362 


On  Deck 


[No.  93 


an  hour,  and  then   retired  to  my  stateroom  with   a 
comfortable  sense  of  security. 

At  one  time  during  the  chase,  when  capture  seemed 
inevitable,  the  kegs  containing  the  gold  had  been 
brought  on  deck,  and  one  of  them  opened  by  my 
orders,  it  being  my  intention  to  distribute  its  contents 
among  the  officers  and  crew.  The  chaser  proved 
afterward  to  be  the  Iroquois.  Feeling  confident  that 
she  would  continue  on  the  course  toward  Abaco,  and 
perhaps  have  another  and  more  successful  chase,  I 
changed  the  destination  of  the  Lee  to  Bermuda,  where 
we  arrived  safely  two  days  afterward. 


Mobile  was 
defended  by 
a  fort,  a  pow- 
erful iron- 
clad, and  tor- 
pedoes.   To 
attack  was 
very  danger- 
ous.- 


93.     Sinking  the  Tecumseh 

By  Loyall  Farragut  (1864) 

Farragut  had  fully  intended  to  run  into  Mobile 
Bay  on  the  4th  of  August;  but  the  non-arrival  of 
the  Tecumseh  from  Pensacola,  prevented  him  from 
doing  so.  It  was  with  great  satisfaction  that  he  saw 
her  steam  behind  Sand  Island  on  that  afternoon,  and 
take  up  her  anchorage  with  the  Winnebago,  Manhat- 
tan, and  C J  licks  aw. 

On  the  morning  of  the  5th,  long  before  day, 
through  the  whole  fleet  could  be  heard  the  boat- 
swains' cheery  pipes  and  calls  of  "all  hands"  and 
"up  all  hammocks"  —  sounds  so  familiar  on  ship- 
board ;  and  soon  after  an  orderly  entered  the  cabin 
and  called  Captain  Drayton.  While  the  Admiral, 
Drayton,  and  Palmer  were  partaking  of  their  break- 
fast, daybreak  was  reported,  but  weather  threatening 
rain.      The   clouds  worked  round,   however,  and   in 


No.  93]       Sinking  the  Tecumseh         363 

spite  of  its  being  Friday,  the  sailor's  day  of  misgiv- 
ings, they  congratulated  themselves  on  the  good 
omen.  The  wind,  too,  was  west-southwest,  just  where 
Farragut  wanted  it,  as  it  would  blow  the  smoke  of 
the  guns  on  Fort  Morgan. 


DAVID    FARRAGUT, 


At  four  o'clock  the  wooden  ships  formed  in  double 
column,  lashed  in  pairs.  The  Brooklyn  was  appointed 
to  lead,  because  she  had  four  chase  guns,  and  appa- 
ratus for  picking  up  torpedoes. 

At  half  past  five  the  Admiral  still  sipping  his  tea, 


364 


On  Deck 


[No.  93 


Barbette 
guns 

mounted  on 
a  wall,  with 
no  roof  over 
them. 


quietly  said,  "  Well,  Drayton,  we  might  as  well  get 
under  way."  In  one  minute  answering  signals  came 
from  the  whole  fleet,  the  wooden  vessels  taking  up 
their  respective  positions,  and  steering  for  Sand 
Island  Channel,  while  the  four  monitors  filed  out  of 
Monitor  Bay,  and  formed  in  a  single  column  to  the 
right  of  the  wooden  ships,  the  leading  one  being 
abreast  of  the  Brooklyn. 

The  Confederate  vessels  had  in  the  meantime  taken 
up  their  position  in  single  line  across  the  channel, 
with  their  port  batteries  bearing  on  the  fleet.  The 
Tennessee  was  a  little  westward  of  the  red  buoy  and 
close  to  the  inner  line  of  torpedoes. 

At  6:47  A-M-  the  booming  of  the  TecnmseJi  s  guns 
was  heard,  and  shortly  afterwards  Morgan  replied. 
As  the  fleet  of  wooden  vessels  came  within  shorter 
range,  Farragut  made  signal  for  "  closer  order," 
which  was  promptly  obeyed,  each  vessel  closing  up 
to  within  a  few  yards  of  the  one  ahead,  and  a  little  on 
the  starboard  quarter,  thus  enabling  such  of  the  ships 
as  had  chase  guns  to  bring  them  to  bear.  The  ball 
had  opened,  but  the  enemy  had  the  advantage,  and 
the  Union  fleet  now  received  a  raking  fire  from  forts 
and  rebel  gunboats  for  fully  half  an  hour  before  they 
could  bring  their  broadsides  to  bear  with  effect.  But 
at  the  end  of  that  time  the  Brooklyn  and  Hartford 
were  enabled  to  pour  in  their  broadsides,  driving  the 
gunners  from  the  barbette  and  water  batteries. 

By  half  past  seven  the  Tecnmseh  was  well  up  with 
the  fort,  and  drawing  slowly  by  the  Tennessee,  hav- 
ing her  on  the  port  beam,  when  suddenly  she  reeled 
to  port  and  went  down  with  almost  every  soul  on 
board,  destroyed  by  a  torpedo. 

Craven,  in  his  eagerness  to  engage  the  ram,  had 


no.  93]        Sinking  the  Tecumseh         365 

passed  to  the  west  of  the  fatal  buoy.  If  he  had 
gone  but  his  breadth  of  beam  eastward  of  it,  he 
would  have  been  safe  so  far  as  torpedoes  were  con- 
cerned. 

This  appalling  disaster  was  not  immediately  real- 
ized by  the  fleet.  Some  supposed  the  Tennessee  had 
been  sunk,  or  some  advantage  gained  over  the  enemy, 
and  cheer  after  cheer  from  the  Hartford  was  taken 
up  and  echoed  along  the  line.  But  Farragut  from 
his  lofty  perch,  saw  the  true  state  of  affairs,  and  his 
anxiety  was  not  decreased  when  the  Brooklyn,  next 
ahead,  suddenly  stopped.  He  hailed  his  pilot,  Free- 
man, above  him  in  the  top,  to  ask,  "  What  is  the 
matter  with  the  Brooklyn  ?  She  must  have  plenty 
of  water  there."  ''Plenty  and  to  spare,  Admiral," 
the  man  replied.  Alden  had  seen  the  Tecumseh  go 
down,  and  the  heavy  line  of  torpedoes  across  the 
channel  made  him  pause.  The  Brooklyn  began  to 
back ;  the  vessels  in  the  rear,  pressing  on  those  in 
the  van,  soon  created  confusion,  and  disaster  seemed 
imminent.  "  The  batteries  of  our  ships  were  almost 
silent,"  says  an  eye-witness,  "while  the  whole  of  Mo- 
bile Point  was  a  living  flame." 

"What's  the  trouble?"  was  shouted  through  a 
trumpet  from  the  flag-ship  to  the  Brooklyn. 

"Torpedoes !  "  was  shouted  back  in  reply. 

"Damn  the  torpedoes!"  said  Farragut.  "Four  Not  a  refined 
bells  !  Captain  Drayton,  go  ahead !  Jouett,  full 
speed  !  "  And  the  Hartford  passed  the  Brooklyn,  he  said 
assuming  the  head  of  the  line,  and  led  the  fleet  to 
victory.  It  was  the  one  only  way  out  of  the  diffi- 
culty, and  any  hesitation  would  have  closed  even  this 
escape  from  a  frightful  disaster.  Nor  did  the  Ad- 
miral forget  the  poor  fellows  who  were  struggling  in 


expression, 
but  it  is  what 


366 


On  Deck 


[No.  94 


the  water  where  the  Tecumseh  had  gone  down,  but 
ordered  Jouett  to  lower  the  boat  and  pick  up  the 
survivors. 


94.    Running    the   Batteries 

By  Captain  Alfred  T.  Mahan  (1862) 

TheConfed-        At  ten  o'clock  that  evening  the  gunboat  Carondelet, 
erates  had       Commander  Henry  Walke,  left  her  anchorage,  during 
fied  island      a  heavy  thunderstorm,  and  successfully  ran  the  bat- 
No.  10  in  the   teries,  reaching  New  Madrid  at  one  p.m.     The  orders 
RiverSSW1      to  execute  this  daring  move  were  delivered  to  Cap- 
tain Walke  on  the  30th  of  March.     The  vessel  was 
immediately  prepared.     Her  decks  were  covered  with 
extra  thicknesses  of  planking;  the  chain  cables  were 
brought  up  from  below  and  ranged  as  an  additional 
protection.     Lumber  and  cord-wood  were  piled  thickly 
around  the  boilers,  and  arrangements  made  for  letting 
the  steam  escape  through  the  wheel-houses,  to  avoid 
the  puffing  noise  ordinarily  issuing  from  the  pipes. 
The  pilot-house  for  additional  security,  was  wrapped 
to  a  thickness  of  eighteen  inches  in  the  coils  of  a 
large  hawser.     A  barge,  loaded  with   bales   of  hay, 
was  made  fast  on  the  port  quarter  of  the  vessel  to 
protect  the  magazine. 

The  moon  set  at  ten  o'clock,  and  then  too  was  felt 
the  first  breath  of  a  thunderstorm,  which  had  been 
for  some  time  gathering.  The  Carondelet  swung 
from  her  moorings  and  started  down  the  stream. 
The  guns  were  in  and  ports  closed.  No  light  was 
allowed  about  the  decks.  Within  the  darkened  case- 
ment of  the  pilot-house  all  her  crew  save  two,  stood 
in  silence,  fully  armed  to  repel  boarding,  should  board- 


no.  94]       Running  the  Batteries        367 

ing  be  attempted.  The  storm  burst  in  full  violence 
as  soon  as  her  head  was  fairly  down  stream.  The 
flashes  of  lightning  showed  her  presence  to  the  Con- 
federates, who  rapidly  manned  their  guns,  and  whose 
excited  shouts  and  commands  were  plainly  heard  on 
board  as  the  boat  passed  close  under  the  batteries. 
On  deck,  exposed  alike  to  the  storm  and  to  the 
enemy's  fire,  were  two  men ;  one,  Charles  Wilson,  a 
seaman,  heaving  the  lead,  standing  sometimes  knee- 
deep  in  the  water  that  boiled  over  the  forecastle ;  the 
other,  an  officer,  Theodore  Gilmore,  on  the  upper 
deck  forward,  repeating  to  the  pilot  the  leadsman's 
muttered,  "  No  bottom." 

The  storm  spread  its  sheltering  wing  over  the  gal- 
lant vessel,  baffling  the  excited  efforts  of  the  enemy, 
before  whose  eyes  she  floated  like  a  phantom  ship ; 
now  wrapped  in  impenetrable  darkness,  now  standing 
forth  in  the  full  blaze  of  the  lightning  close  under 
their  guns.  The  friendly  flashes  enabled  the  pilot, 
William  R.  Hoel,  who  had  volunteered  from  another 
gunboat  to  share  the  fortunes  of  the  night,  to  keep 
her  in  the  channel ;  once  only,  in  a  longer  interval 
between  them,  did  the  vessel  get  a  dangerous  sheer 
toward  a  shoal,  but  the  peril  was  revealed  in  time  to 
avoid  it.  Not  till  the  firing  had  ceased  did  the  squall 
abate. 

The  passage  of  the  Carondelet  was  not  only  one  of  "  island  No. 
the  most  daring  and  dramatic  events  of  the  war ;  it  ,IO'^asr    . 

heavily  iorti- 

was  also  the  death-blow  to  the  Confederate  defence  ned  by  the 
of  this  position.     The  concluding  events  followed  in  Confederates 
rapid  succession. 

Having  passed  the  island  as  related,  on  the  night 
of  the  4th,  the  Carondelet  on  the  6th  made  a  recon- 
noissance  down  the  river  as  far  as  Tiptonville,  with 


368 


On  Deck  [No.  95 


General  Granger  on  board,  exchanging  shots  with 
the  Confederate  batteries,  at  one  of  which  a  landing 
was  made  and  the  guns  spiked.  That  night  the  Pitts- 
burg also  passed  the  island,  and  at  6:30  a.m.  of  the 
7th,  the  Carondelet  got  under  way,  in  concert  with 
Pope's  operations,  went  down  the  river,  followed 
after  an  interval  by  the  Pittsburg  and  engaged  the 
enemies'  batteries,  beginning  with  the  lowest.  This 
was  silenced  in  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  and  the 
others  made  little  resistance.  The  Carondelet  then 
signalled  her  success  to  the  general  and  returned  to 
cover  the  crossing  of  the  army,  which  began  at  once. 
The  enemy  evacuated  their  works,  pushing  down 
towards  Tiptonville,  but  there  were  actually  no  means 
for  them  to  escape,  caught  between  the  swamps  and 
the  river.  Seven  thousand  men  laid  down  their  arms, 
three  of  whom  were  general  officers.  At  ten  o'clock 
that  evening  the  island  and  garrison  surrendered  to 
the  navy,  just  three  days  to  an  hour  after  the  Caron- 
delet started  on  her  perilous  voyage.  How  much  of 
this  result  was  due  to  the  Carondelet  and  Pittsburg 
may  be  measured  by  Pope's  words  to  the  flag-officer : 
"  The  lives  of  thousands  of  men  and  the  success  of 
our  operations  hang  upon  your  decision ;  with  two 
gunboats  all  is  safe,  with  one  it  is  uncertain." 


95.     Escape  of  the  Sumter 

By  Captain  Raphael  Semmes  (1864) 

On  the  morning  of  the  29th  of  June,  hopes  were 
excited  by  a  report  from  the  pilot  that  the  Brooklyn 
had    left    her    station ;    and    speed    being    got    up 


no.  95]        Escape  of  the  Sumter        369 


with   all   haste  on   the    Sumter,  she    again    dropped  Semmes, 
down  to  Pass  a  L'Outre,  but  only  to  find  that   the  ^heTi^L 
report  had  been  fallacious.     The  Brooklyn  was  still  Alabama^** 
at  anchor,  though  a  slight  change  of  berth  had  placed  j^"^atri^ls 
her  behind  the  shelter  of  a  mass  of  trees.     Once  more, 
therefore,  the   Sumter  was    brought   to    an    anchor ; 
but  on  the  day  following,  her  patient  waiting  was  re- 
warded by  the  long-looked  for  opportunity.     On  the 
morning  of  the  30th  of  June  the  Brooklyn  was  again 


time  to  run 
out  of  the 
Mississippi 
River. 


A   BIG   SHIP   GUN. 

reported  under  way,  and  in  chase  of  a  vessel  to  lee- 
ward ;  and  no  sooner  was  the  fact  of  her  departure 
fairly  verified  than  steam  was  got  up  for  the  last 
time,  and  the  little  Sumter  dashed  boldly  across  the 
bar,  and  stood  out  to  sea. 

Almost  at  the  last  moment,  however,  it  seemed  as 

though  the  attempt  to  escape  were  again  to  be  baffled 

by  difficulties  on  the  part  of  the  pilot.     The  man  on 

board  of  the  Sumter  lost  courage  as  the  moment  of 

2  B 


3  7  o  On  Deck  [No.  95 

trial  came,  and  professed  his  inability  to  take  the 
vessel  through  the  pass  thus  left  free  by  the  depar- 
ture of  the  Brooklyn,  alleging  as  his  excuse  that  he  had 
not  passed  through  it  for  more  than  three  months. 
Happily  the  man's  cowardice  or  treachery  produced 
no  ill  effects ;  for,  as  the  Sumter  dropped  down  the 
river  on  her  way  toward  the  open  sea,  another  pilot 
came  gallantly  off  to  her  in  his  little  boat,  and  volun- 
teered to  carry  her  through  the  Pass. 

The  Sumter  had  not  yet  reached  within  six  miles 
of  the  bar  when  her  movements  were  perceived  from 
the  Brooklyn,  which  at  once  relinquished  the  far  less 
valuable  prize  on  which  she  had  been  hitherto  intent ; 
and  changing  her  course,  headed  at  top  speed  towards 
the  bar,  in  hopes  of  cutting  the  Sumter  off  before  she 
could  reach  it.  The  narrow  opening  through  the  bar, 
distant  about  six  miles  from  either  of  the  opposing 
vessels,  now  became  the  goal  of  a  sharp  and  exciting 
race.  The  Sumter  had  the  advantage  of  the  stream  ; 
but  the  Brooklyn  was  her  superior  in  speed,  and  more- 
over, carried  guns  of  heavier  calibre  and  longer  range. 

At  length  the  Pass  is  reached  ;  and  dashing  gallantly 
across  it,  the  little  Sumter  starboards  her  helm  and 
rounds  the  mud-banks  to  the  eastward.  As  she  does 
so  the  Brooklyn  rounds  to  for  a  moment,  and  gives 
her  a  shot  from  her  pivot  gun.  But  the  bolt  falls 
short;   and  now  the  race  begins  in  earnest. 

The  chase  had  not  continued  long,  when  a  heavy 
squall  of  wind  and  rain  came  up,  and  hid  the  pursuing 
vessel  from  sight ;  but  it  soon  passed  away,  and  the 
Brooklyn  was  again  descried  astern,  under  all  sail  and 
steam,  and  evidently  gaining  upon  her  little  quarry. 
On  this  the  Sumter  was  hauled  two  points  higher 
up,  thus  bringing  the  wind  so  far  forward  that  the 


no.  96]  Passing  the  Forts  371 

Brooklyn  was  no  longer  able  to  carry  sail.  And 
now  the  chase  in  her  turn  began  to  gain  upon  her 
huge  pursuer.  But  she  was  getting  into  salt  water, 
and  her  boilers  began  to  prime  furiously.  It  was 
necessary  to  slacken  speed  for  a  time,  and  as  she  did 
so  the  Brooklyn  slowly  recovered  her  advantage.  Then 
gradually  the  foaming  in  the  Sumter's  boilers  ceased, 
and  she  was  again  put  to  her  speed.  The  utmost 
pressure  was  put  on ;  the  propeller  began  to  move 
at  the  rate  of  sixty-five  revolutions  a  minute,  and  the 
Brooklyn  dropped  slowly  but  steadily  astern.  At 
length  she  gave  up  the  chase,  and  at  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  just  four  hours  after  crossing  the  bar, 
the  crew  of  the  Sumter  gave  three  hearty  cheers  as 
her  baffled  pursuer  put  up  her  helm,  and,  relinquish- 
ing the  chase,  turned  sullenly  back  to  her  station  at  the 
mouth  of  the  river. 


96.    Passing  the  Forts  on  the 
Mississippi. 

By  George  Hughes  Hepworth  (1863) 

We  started  at  four,  p.m.  ;  and  anchored  just  off  the      in  the  Gulf 
Bar,  in  the  "  Father  of  Waters,"  some  time  the  next  ofMexico- 
evening.    I  was  glad  of  this  ;  for  it  gave  me  an  oppor- 
tunity  to    see   the    plantations    on  each  side  of  the 
river,  of  which  I  had  heard  so  much. 

Early  in  the  morning,  we  entered  the  Southwest 
Pass,  crossed  the  Bar,  and  passed  the  sunken  wreck 
of  the  fire-boat  which  the  rebels  had  set  adrift,  in 
hopes  thereby  to  fire  Farragut's  fleet.     It  ended  its 


372  On  Deck  [Ho.  96 

ignoble  career  as  it  should  ;  rinding  a  grave  in  Mis- 
sissippi mud. 

The  river  presented  no  objects  of  interest  for  many 

miles  ;  indeed,  not  until  we    reached  the    Forts   St. 

Philip  and  Jackson.     Jackson  is  the  principal  work, 

situated  on  the  right  bank  of  the    river,  and  almost 

Farragut        immediately  opposite  Fort  St.  Philip.      We  saw  noth- 

came  up  the    mg  to  remind  us  of  the  struggle  which  gave  us  New 

river  in  April,         °.  .  .         °         ,      , 

1862.  Orleans,  except  a  gunboat  or  two  destroyed    during 

the  fight,  and  driven  as  high  as  possible  on  the  bank 
of  the  river.  Yet,  said  they  who  saw  the  fight,  it 
was  a  terrible  contest.  The  rebels  were  fresh,  eager 
for  the  fray,  and  reckless  in  their  daring.  They  be- 
lieved themselves  secure  against  any  attack  of  the 
Federals.  They  had  strengthened  their  fortifications 
in  every  possible  way,  and  had  mounted  guns  which 
have  since  been  proved  excellent.  A  picket-guard  had 
been  stationed  a  couple  of  miles  below  to  signal  the 
first  approach  of  the  enemy.  They  could  begin  to 
fire  at  our  boats  when  over  two  miles  distant. 

Besides  all  this,  they  had  three  immense  iron  cables 
stretched  across  the  river,  to  which  was  attached  a 
bridge  ;  so  that  communication  between  the  two  forts 
was  complete.  If  our  fleet  should  succeed  in  getting 
opposite  the  fort,  this  impediment  would  bar  its  fur- 
ther progress ;  and,  before  it  could  get  out  of  range 
again,  it  would  be  utterly  destroyed.  Our  fleet-com- 
mander was  aware  of  the  existence  of  this  chain,  and 
destroyed  it  in  a  very  neat  way.  The  water  runs,  at 
this  point,  about  three  miles  an  hour.  This  tremen- 
dous pressure  brought  a  great  strain  against  the  iron  ; 
and,  when  the  floating  bridge  was  attached,  the  cur- 
rent pressed  against  the  immense  amount  of  wood- 
work, and  strained  the  cable  to  its  utmost. 


no.  96]  Passing  the  Forts  373 

Our  commander  sent  one  of  his  fleetest  boats  — 
a  boat  with  an  iron  prow,  and  sharpened  —  to  stem 
the  current  at  its  utmost  speed,  and  strike  the  cable 
in  the  centre  of  the  river,  where  the  pressure  was 
greatest.  The  experiment  was  remarkably  successful. 
The  boat  hit  the  chain  in  just  the  right  place,  and  it 
parted  as  if  by  magic ;  one  half  the  bridge  floating  to 
the  east  side  of  the  river,  and  the  other  half  to  the 
west  side.  I  have  often,  when  a  boy,  bent  a  young 
tree,  half  as  thick  as  my  arm,  almost  to  the  ground, 
and  then,  striking  it  on  the  upper  side  where  the 
strain  was  greatest,  cut  it  completely  through  with 
the  quick  blow  of  a  hatchet.  It  was  in  the  same  way 
that  the  great  chain  was  broken. 

The  fleet  of  the  Union  came  up  the  river  slowly, 
—  feeling  its  way  along,  fearing  some  infernal 
machine,  —  and  nothing  was  heard  on  that  calm  but 
dark  night  save  the  striking  of  their  paddles  in  the 
water.  The  decks  were  filled  with  men,  who  expected 
to  pay  a  heavy  price  for  the  victory  and  who 
were  willing  to  give  their  lives.  The  pilot,  Porter, 
knew  every  shoal,  every  bend,  every  snag.  If  any- 
body could  take  our  fleet  by  those  forts,  Porter  was 
the  man.  I  have  thought,  what  an  hour  of  intense 
excitement  that  must  have  been  on  both  sides !  The 
rebels  did  not  believe  that  our  men  would  attempt 
such  a  hopeless  task,  yet  kept  on  the  alert ;  and  on 
that  night,  trained  ears  were  listening  to  catch  the 
sound  of  paddle-wheels,  and  trained  eyes  were  peering 
through  the  darkness.  Nobody  saw  the  glorious  stars 
and  stripes  which  were  floating  to  the  breeze  from  the 
mast-head  of  every  gunboat.  Nobody  saw  the  stars 
and  bars  which  were  polluting  the  air  above  the  forts. 

Soon,  however,  the  terrific  conflict  between  right  and 


374  On   Deck  cm©.  97 

wrong  began.  Our  leading  gunboats  could  not  have 
been  much  more  than  half  a  mile  distant  from  the 
fort,  when  the  battle  opened  by  iron  hail  from  the 
rebel  guns.  Our  boats  did  not  answer  for  a  while, 
but  kept  steadily  on,  hugging  the  farther  shore. 
When,  however,  they  were  directly  opposite  Fort 
St.  Philip,  their  voices  were  heard  ;  and  they  poured 
upon  the  rebels  a  rain  which  they  were  not  prepared 
for.  Still  we  kept  right  on ;  the  object  being  to  get 
by  the  forts. 

What  a  picture  for  the  historian  to  draw !  The 
night  was  so  dark,  that  the  rebels  could  see  to  fire, 
only  by  the  flashes  from  our  guns,  or  perchance  by 
the  grim  blackness  of  our  gunboats,  seen  against  the 
lighter  background  of  the  sky.  I  need  not  say,  that 
our  entire  fleet  got  by  the  forts;  and  that  that  night's 
work  opened  for  us  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi,  and 
gave  us  New  Orleans.. 


97.    An  Unfortunate  Cow 

By  Franc  B.  Wilkie  (1862) 

The  siege  of        It  was  a  siege  of  intolerable  length,  and  without 
island  No.  10  any  variety  to  break  the  everlasting  monotony.     Dur- 

from  March      .      J  J  °  J 

17  to  April  7.  lng  the  weeks  that  we  were  there,  there  was  but 
one  event  that  increased  the  pulsation  of  my  blood. 
The  wooden  gunboat  Conestoga  lay  well  up  the 
river  just  out  of  the  range  of  the  batteries.  There 
were  several  ammunition  boats  in  the  vicinity,  which  it 
was  our  duty  to  guard  nights.  During  the  day,  the 
Conestoga  would  drop  out  into  the  stream  and  down 
till  within  range,  and  then  add  her  voice  to  the  thun- 
derous concert. 


no.  97]       An   Unfortunate  Cow        375 

This  vessel  and  the  ammunition  boats  at  night  were 
laid  up  on  the  west,  or  Arkansas  shore.  Between  us 
and  the  shore  there  was  a  swamp  densely- covered 
with  cane,  so  that  access  to  the  boats  by  land  was 
impossible.  One  night,  about  eleven  o'clock,  when 
everybody  save  those  on  duty  had  turned  into. their 
hammocks,  the  solemn  stillness  was  suddenly  broken 
by  a  hail  from  the  deck,  —  "  Who  goes  there  ?  "  — 
followed  almost  instantly  by  the  report  of  a  musket, 
and  scarcely  a  second  later  by  the  roar  of  our  lar- 
board guns.  The  next  moment  I  rushed  out  of  the 
cabin  on  deck.  It  was  as  dark  as  Erebus.  The 
whistle  of  the  boatswain  was  calling  the  men  to  their 
places,  and  there  was  a  rush  of  flying  feet.  There 
were  the  creaking  of  tackle,  and  then  the  flash  and 
roar  of  the  larboard  guns  of  the  Conestoga,  as  they 
blazed  away  into  the  woods  and  the  darkness.  Down 
the  stream  in  the  density  of  night,  activity  was  notice- 
able among  the  twinkling  lights  of  the  fleet.  Signal 
rockets  flashed  athwart  the  gloom  ;  and  soon  the  quick 
pulsations  of  a  steam-tug  added  its  voice  to  the 
clamor. 

It  was  tremendously  exciting  for  a  few  moments.  I 
could  see  no  enemy ;  grape  went  crashing  through  the 
cane  and  trees  and  splashing  into  the  water.  In 
the  obscurity  all  I  could  see  that  was  human  on 
the  deck,  when  a  flash  from  the  guns  lighted  up  the 
scene,  was  one  of  the  ship  boys  —  a  sucking  tar  of 
about  twelve  years  of  age  apparently  —  who  was  stand- 
ing within  the  taffrail  and  blazing  into  the  timber  with 
a  revolver  as  fast  as  he  could  cock  it  and  pull  the  trig- 
ger. A  tug  came  alongside  from  the  fleet,  and  an  offi- 
cer climbed  up  on  deck  with  a  lantern.  He  disappeared 
down  the  gun  deck,  and  a  little  later  the  firing  ceased. 


376 


On  Deck 


[No.  98 


The  report  of  the  sentinel  was  to  the  effect  that 
he  heard  something  splashing  through  the  water, 
and  had  challenged  it,  and  receiving  no  answer  had 
fired  off  his  musket.  Some  boats  were  lowered  and 
an  exploration  was  made  of  the  vicinity,  but  nothing 
whatever  was  discovered.  When  daylight  came,  amid 
the  torn  canes  lay  the  body  of  a  cow,  or  portions  of  a 


A   QUARTERMASTER'S    STEAMER. 

cow,  for  she  had  been  riddled  with  a  charge  of  grape. 
It  was  she,  that,  wading  through  the  water,  had  ex- 
cited the  challenge  and  alarm  of  the  sentinel,  the 
fierce  resistance  of  the  gallant  Conestoga,  and  a  com- 
motion which  affected  the  entire  fleet. 


98.    Sinking  the  Albemarle 

By  John  Russell  Soley  (1864) 

The  night  was  dark  and  stormy,  with  now  and  then 
a  heavy  fall  of  rain.     Most  of  the  officers  stood  or 


no.  98]       Sinking  the  Albemarle       377 

sat  in  the  forward  part  of  the  launch.     The  engineers   The  Aibe- 
and  firemen  were  at  their  post  by  the  engine,  and  the   marle> a  dan_ 

,   .        ,       ,  111  i   •        gerous  iron- 

rest  were  stationed  in  the  bow,  near  the  wheel,  and  in   clad,  lay  off 

the  stern.     The  last  were  to  clear  the  tiller  ropes,  in   Plymouth,  in 

.  .         ,  ,    r       ,  the  Roanoke 

case  they  should  foul.  River    Lieu. 

Running  cautiously  under  the  trees  on  the  right  tenant Cush- 

bank,  the  launch  proceeded  on  her  way  up  the  enemy's  unioi/navy 

river.     It  was   dishing' s   intention,  if   he  could   get  volunteered 

ashore  unobserved,  to  land  below  the  ram,  board  her  !°  destr°y 

.  .  ner- 

from  the  wharf,  and  bring  her  down  the  river.     To 

carry  out  this  plan,  it  was  necessary  that  the  attack 
should  be  a  surprise ;  but,  failing  in  this,  he  was  pre- 
pared to  attack  with  the  torpedo.  In  either  case  he 
meant  to  give  the  enemy  as  little  warning  as  he  could. 
Creeping  along  silently  and  stealthily,  the  launch 
approached  the  landing  just  below  the  wharf.  Just 
then  a  dog  barked,  and  a  sentry,  aroused,  discovered 
the  boat  and  hailed  her.  Receiving  no  answer,  he 
hailed  again  and  fired.  Up  to  this  moment  not  a 
word  had  been  uttered.  But  in  an  instant  the  situa- 
tion was  changed.  The  time  for  surprises  was  past ; 
and  Cushing,  giving  up  without  a  second  thought  his 
cherished  project,  at  once  threw  off  all  concealment, 
and  in  a  loud  voice  called  out,  "  Ahead,  fast !  "  In 
the  same  breath  he  ordered  the  cutter  to  cast  loose, 
capture  the  SouthfielcFs  pickets,  and  go  down  the 
river.  Pushing  on  two  hundred  yards  further,  he 
saw  for  the  first  time  the  dim  outlines  of  the  Albe- 
marle, on  the  port  bow,  and  close  aboard.  The  light 
of  the  fire  showed  a  line  of  logs  in  the  water,  within 
which,  at  a  distance  of  thirty  feet,  lay  the  vessel. 
The  launch  was  too  near  the  logs  to  rise  over  them 
at  the  sharp  angle  her  course  was  then  making,  and 
Cushing  saw  that  he  must  sheer  off  and  turn  before 


378 


On  Deck  [No.  98 


he  could  strike  them  fairly  and  with  sufficient  head- 
way. 

The  alarm  on  board  the  Albemarle  had  now  become 
general ;  rattles  were  sprung ;  the  bell  was  rung  vio- 
lently ;  and  a  shower  of  rifle  bullets  was  poured  in 
upon  the  launch.  Swan  received  a  slight  wound,  and 
Cushing  had  three  bullets  in  his  clothing,  but  no  one 
was  disabled.  Passing  close  to  the  enemy,  the  launch 
took  a  wide  sweep  out  to  the  middle  of  the  river; 
then  turning,  it  headed  at  full  speed  for  the  ram.  As 
he  approached,  Cushing  with  the  rollicking  bravado 
and  audacity  that  marked  all  his  doings,  shouted  at 
the  top  of  his  voice,  "  Leave  the  ram  !  We  are  going 
to  blow  you  up  !  "  with  more  exclamations  of  the  same 
kind,  in  which  the  others  joined.  To  Cushing,  who 
went  into  action  with  the  zest  of  a  school-boy  at  foot- 
ball, and  the  nerve  and  well-balanced  judgment  of  a 
veteran,  the  whole  affair  was  half  sport,  even  while 
the  bullets  were  flying  around  him,  and  while  he  could 
hear  the  snapping  of  the  primers,  as  the  guns  of  the 
ram  were  brought  to  bear.  Luckily  they  missed  fire. 
As  he  came  near,  Cushing  ordered  the  howitzer  to  be 
trained  and  fired ;  and  he  directed  every  movement 
himself,  which  was  promptly  carried  out  by  those  in 
the  bow.  He  says  of  this  incident  in  his  report : 
"The  enemy's  fire  was  very  severe,  but  a  dose  of 
canister,  at  short  range,  served  to  moderate  their  zeal 
and  disturb  their  aim." 

In  a  moment  the  launch  struck  the  boom  of  logs, 
abreast  of  the  ram's  quarter  port,  and  pressed  over 
them.  As  it  approached  the  side  of  the  ram,  the 
torpedo-spar  was  lowered ;  and  going  ahead  slowly 
until  the  torpedo  was  well  under  the  Albemarle 's 
bottom,   Cushing  detached  it  with   a  vigorous   pull. 


no.  98]      Sinking  the  Albemarle       379 

Waiting  till  he  could  feel  the  torpedo  rising  slowly 
and  touching  the  vessel,  he  pulled  the  trigger  line 
and  exploded  it.  At  the  same  second,  as  it  seemed 
to  those  in  the  boat,  the  Albemarle 's  gun  was  fired, 
while  the  launch  was  within  a  dozen  feet  of  the 
muzzle.  To  Cushing  it  seemed  that  the  shot  went 
crashing  through  his  boat,  though  in  fact  she  was 
not  touched.  A  column  of  water,  thrown  up  by  the 
explosion  of  the  torpedo,  fell  in  the  launch,  which 
was  entangled  in  the  logs,  and  could  not  be  extri- 
cated. 

When  Cushing  saw  that  he  could  not  bring  the 
boat  off,  after  refusing  to  surrender,  he  ordered  the 
crew  to  save  themselves,  and  taking  off  his  coat  and 
shoes,  jumped  into  the  river.  Others  followed  his 
example  ;  but  all  returned  except  three,  —  Woodman, 
and  two  of  the  crew,  Higgins  and  Horton.  Horton 
made  his  escape,  but  the  other  two  were  drowned. 

Cushing  swam  to  the  middle  of  the  stream.  Half 
a  mile  below  he  met  Woodman  in  the  water,  com- 
pletely exhausted.  Cushing  helped  him  to  go  on  for 
a  little  distance,  but  he  was  by  this  time  too  weak  to 
get  his  companion  ashore.  Reaching  the  bank  with 
difficulty,  he  waited  till  daylight,  when  he  crawled 
out  of  the  water  and  stole  into  the  swamp  not  far 
from  the  fort.  On  his  way  he  fell  in  with  a  negro, 
whom  he  sent  to  gain  information  as  to  the  result  of 
the  night's  work.  As  soon  as  he  learned  that  the 
Albemarle  was  sunk,  he  moved  on  until  he  came  to  a 
creek,  where  he  captured  a  skiff,  and  in  this  he  made 
his  way  the  next  night  to  a  picket-boat  at  the  mouth 
of  the  river.  The  rest  of  the  party,  unable  either 
to  resist  or  escape,  surrendered. 


^ 

m 

"C\-  ~-^% 

I^L 

1 

_     _   _   _     .     1 

AN   ARMY   NURSE. 


PART  VIII 
WOMEN   AND   THE   WAR 


gg.    "  How  are  you,  Sanitary  ?  ' 

By  Mary  Ashton  Livermore  (1863) 

It  is  early  morning,  —  not  nine  o'clock,  for  the 
children  are  flocking  in  merry  droves  to  school.  The 
air  is  resonant  with  their  joyous  treble  and  musical 
laughter,  as  with  clustering  heads  and  interlacing 
arms  they  recount  their  varied  experiences  since  they 
parted  the  night  before,  and  rapturously  expatiate  on 
the  delights  of  a  coming  excursion  or  promised  pic- 
nic. With  a  good-bye  kiss,  I  launch  my  own  little 
ones,  bonneted,  sacqued,  and  ballasted  with  books, 
like  the  rest,  into  the  stream  of  childhood  that  is 
setting  in  a  strong,  full  current  toward  the  school- 
room. I  then  catch  the  first  street-car  and  hasten  to 
the  rooms  of  the  Northwestern  Sanitary  Commission. 

Early  as  is  my  arrival,  a  dray  is  already  ahead  of  me, 
unloading  its  big  boxes  and  little  boxes,  its  barrels  and 
firkins,  its  baskets  and  bundles.  The  sidewalk  is  bar- 
ricaded with  the  nondescript  and  multiform  packages, 
which  John,  the  faithful  porter,  with  his  inseparable 
truck,  is  endeavoring  to  stow  away  in  the  crowded 
receiving-room.  Here,  hammers  and  hatchets,  wedges 
and  chisels  are  in  requisition,  compelling  the  crammed 

381 


Throughout 
the  country 
the  ladies 
were  organ- 
ized to 
collect  sup- 
plies and  for- 
ward them  to 
the  sick  and 
wounded  sol- 
diers.   In  the 
field  the 
troops  used 
to  call  to  the 
agents,"  How 
are  you,  San- 
itary?"    The 
two  powerful 
organizations 
were  the  San- 
itary Com- 
mission and 
the  Christian 
Commission. 


382         Women  and  the  JVar       [No.  g9 

boxes  to  disgorge  their  heterogeneous  contents,  which 
are  rapidly  assorted,  stamped,  repacked,  and  re- 
shipped,  their  stay  in  the  room  rarely  exceeding  a 
few  hours. 

I  enter  the  office.  Ladies  are  in  waiting,  desirous 
of  information.  The  aid  society  in  another  state, 
of  which  they  are  officers,  has  raised  at  a  Fourth  of 
July  festival  some  six  hundred  dollars,  and  they  wish 
to  know  how  to  dispose  of  it,  so  as  to  afford  the 
greatest  amount  of  relief  to  the  sick  and  wounded  of 
our  army.  They  were  also  instructed  to  investigate 
the  means  and  methods  of  the  Commission,  so  as  to 
carry  conviction  to  a  few  obstinate  skeptics,  who 
persist  in  doubting  if  the  Sanitary  Commission,  after 
all,  be  the  best  means  of  communication  with  the 
hospitals,  Patiently  and  courteously  the  history, 
methods,  means,  views,  and  successes  of  the  Com- 
mission are  lucidly  explained  for  the  hundredth  time 
in  a  month,  and  all  needed  advice  and  instruction 
imparted ;  and  the  enlightened  women  leave. 

An  express  messenger  enters.  He  presents  a  pack- 
age, obtains  his  fee,  gets  a  receipt  for  the  package, 
and  without  a  word  departs. 

Next  comes  a  budget  of  letters  —  the  morning's 
mail.  One  announces  the  shipment  of  a  box  of  hos- 
pital stores  which  will  arrive  to-day.  Another  scolds 
roundly  because  an  important  letter  sent  a  week  ago 
has  not  been  answered,  while  a  copy  of  the  answer 
in  the  copying-book  is  indisputable  proof  that  it  has 
received  attention,  but  has  in  some  way  miscarried. 
A  third  narrates  a  bugaboo  story  of  surgeons  and 
nurses  in  a  distant  hospital,  with  gluttonous  habits, 
who  are  mainly  occupied  in  "seeking  what  they  can 
devour"  of   the  hospital  delicacies,  so  that   little  is 


no.  99]        Sanitary  Commission         383 

saved  for  their  patients.  A  fourth  pleads  passion- 
ately that  the  writer  may  be  sent  as  a  nurse  to  the 
sad,  cheerless,  most  poorly  furnished  and  far-away 
hospitals. 

A  fifth  is  the  agonized  letter  of  a  mother  and 
widow,  blistered  with  tears,  begging  piteously  that  the 
Commission  will  search  out  and  send  to  her  tidings 
of  her  only  son,  who  has  not  been  heard  from  since 
the  battle  of  Grand  Gulf.  A  sixth  asks  assistance  in 
organizing  the  women  of  a  distant  town,  who  have 
just  awakened  to  their  duty  to  their  brothers  in  the 
field.  A  seventh  is  a  letter  from  two  nine-year-old 
girls,  who  have  between  them  earned  five  dollars,  and 
wish  to  spend  it  for  the  poor  sick  soldiers.  An  eighth 
begs  that  one  of  the  ladies  of  the  Commission  will 
visit  the  aid  society  of  the  town  in  which  the  writer 
lives,  and  rekindle  the  flagging  zeal  of  the  tired 
workers.  They  propose  to  cease  work  during  the 
hot  weather,  forgetting  that  our  brave  men  halt  not 
on  their  marches,  and  postpone  not  their  battles, 
because  of  the  heat  or  of  weariness.  A  ninth 
announces  the  death  of  one  of  our  heroic  nurses,  who 
was  sent  by  the  Commission  a  few  months  ago  to 
Tennessee  —  a  serious,  comely  girl,  with  heart  as 
true  as  steel,  and  soul  on  fire  with  patriotic  desire 
to  do  something  for  her  country,  and  who  has  now 
given  her  life.  And  so  on  through  a  package  of 
twenty,  thirty,  forty,  sometimes  fifty  letters ;  and 
this  is  but  one  mail  of  the  day. 

Now  begins  the  task  of  replying  to  these  multi- 
tudinous epistles  —  a  work  which  is  interrupted  every 
five  minutes  by  some  new  comer.  A  venerable  man 
enters,  walking  slowly,  and  my  heart  warms  towards 
him.     I  remember  my  aged  father,  a  thousand  miles 


of  war. 


384         Women  and  the  War        [No.  99 

away,  who  is,  like  him,  white-haired  and  feeble.  He 
has  been  here  before,  and  I  immediately  recognize 
him. 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  yet  from  my  son  in  Van 
Buren  Hospital,  at  Milliken's  Bend  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,  sir ;  you  know  it  is  only  nine  days  since 
I  wrote  to  inquire  for  him.  I  will  telegraph  if  you 
think  best." 
This  is  apart  "  No  matter;"  and  the  old  man's  lip  quivers,  his 
figure  trembles  violently,  a  sob  chokes  him,  his  eyes 
fill  with  tears,  as  with  a  deprecating  wave  of  the 
hand  he  says,  "  No  matter  now!" 

I  understand  it  all.  It  is  all  over  with  his  boy,  and 
the  cruel  tidings  have  reached  him.  I  rise  and  offer 
my  hand.  He  encloses  it  convulsively  in  his,  leans 
his  head  against  the  iron  column  near  my  desk,  and 
his  tears  drop  steadily. 

"Your  son  has  only  gone  a  little  before  you,"  I 
venture  to  say ;  "  only  a  hand's  breadth  of  time  be- 
tween you  now." 

"  Yes,"  adds  the  poor  old  father ;  "  and  he  gave  his 
life  for  a  good  cause  —  a  cause  worthy  of  it  if  he  had 
been  a  thousand  times  dearer  to  me  than  he  was." 

"And  your  boy's  mother  —  how  does  she  bear  this 
grief?" 

The  tears  rain  down  his  cheeks  now. 

"  It  will  kill  her  ;  she  is  very  feeble." 

Sympathy  and  comfort  are  proffered  the  poor 
father,  and  after  a  little  the  sorrowing  man  turns 
again  to  his  desolate  home. 

A  childish  figure  drags  itself  into  the  room,  shuf- 
fles heavily  along,  drops  into  a  chair,  and  offers  a 
letter.  I  open  the  letter  and  read.  He  is  a  mes- 
senger-boy from  Admiral  Porter's  gunboats,  who  is 


no.  99j        Sanitary  Commission         385 

sent  North  with  the  request  that  the  child  be  properly 
cared  for.  Not  thirteen  years  old,  and  yet  he  has 
been  in  many  battles,  and  has  run  the  gauntlet  of 
the  Vicksburg  batteries,  which  for  ten  miles  belched 
forth  red-hot  and  steel-pointed  shot  and  shell,  in  fruit- 
less efforts  to  sink  the  invulnerable  ironclads.  Fever, 
too  much  medicine,  neglect,  and  exposure,  have  done 
their  worst  for  the  little  fellow,  who  has  come  North, 
homeless  and  friendless,  with  the  right  side  paralyzed. 
He  is  taken  to  the  Soldiers'  Home,  and  for  the  pres- 
ent is  consigned  to  the  motherly  care  of  the  good 
ladies  who  preside  there. 

A  bevy  of  nurses  enter  next  with  carpet-bags, 
shawls,  and  bundles.  A  telegram  from  the  Com- 
mission has  summoned  them,  for  the  hospitals  at 
Memphis  need  them,  and  straightway  they  have 
girded  themselves  to  the  work.  One  is  a  widow, 
whose  husband  fell  at  Shiloh ;  another  is  the  wife  of 
a  lieutenant  at  Vicksburg ;  a  third  lost  her  brother 
at  Chancellorsville;  a  fourth  has  no  family  ties,  and 
there  is  no  one  to  miss  her  while  absent,  or  to  mourn 
her  if  she  never  returns.  They  receive  their  instruc- 
tions, commissions,  and  transportation,  and  hurry  on- 
ward. 

Ah  !  that  white,  anxious  face,  whiter  than  ever,  is 
again  framed  in  the  doorway.  Is  there  no  possible 
escape  from  it  ?  One,  two,  three,  four  days  she  has 
haunted  these  rooms,  waiting  the  answer  to  the  tele- 
gram despatched  to  Gettysburg,  where  her  son  was 
wounded  ten  days  ago.  The  answer  to  the  telegram 
is  this  moment  in  my  pocket  —  how  shall  I  repeat  its 
stern  message  to  the  white-faced,  sorrow-stricken 
mother  ?  I  involuntarily  leave  my  desk,  and  bustle 
about,  as  if  in  search  of  something,  trying  to  think 


386         Women  and  the  War        [No.  99 

how  to  break  the  news.  I  am  spared  the  effort,  for 
the  morning  papers  have  announced  her  bereave- 
ment, and  she  has  only  come  to  secure  the  help  of 
the  Commission  in  obtaining  possession  of  her  dead- 
There  are  no  tears,  no  words  of  grief;  only  a  still 
agony,  a  repressed  anguish,  which  it  is  painful  to 
witness.  Mr.  Freeman  accompanies  her  to  the  rail- 
road officials,  where  his  pleading  story  wins  the 
charity  of  a  free  pass  for  the  poor  woman  to  the 
military  line.  There  she  must  win  her  way,  aided 
by  the  letters  of  endorsement  and  recommendation 
we  give  her.  Bowing  under  her  great  sorrow,  she 
goes  forth  on  her  sacred  pilgrimage. 

Soldiers  from  the  city  hospitals  visit  us,  to  beg  a 
shirt,  a  pair  of  slippers,  a  comb,  or  a  well-filled  pin- 
cushion, something  interesting  to  read,  or  paper, 
envelopes,  and  stamps,  to  answer  letters  from  wives, 
mothers,  and  sweethearts.  They  tarry  to  talk  over 
their  trials,  sufferings,  and  privations,  and  their  anx- 
iety to  get  well  and  join  their  regiments,  which  is 
better  than  being  cooped  up  in  a  hospital,  even  when 
it  is  a  good  one.  They  are  praised  heartily,  petted 
in  motherly  fashion  as  if  they  were  children,  which 
most  sick  men  become,  urged  to  come  again,  and 
sent  back  altogether  lighter-hearted  than  when  they 
came. 

So  the  day  wears  away.  More  loaded  drays  drive 
to  the  door  with  barrels  of  crackers,  ale,  pickles,  sauer- 
kraut, and  potatoes,  with  boxes  of  shirts,  drawers,  con- 
densed milk  and  beef,  with  bales  of  cotton  and  flannel 
for  the  sewing-room,  all  of  which  are  speedily  disposed 
of,  to  make  room  for  the  arrivals  of  the  morrow.  Men 
and  women  come  and  go  —  to  visit,  to  make  inquiries, 
to  ask  favors,  to  offer  services,  to  criticise  and  find 


no.  iooj       Gifts  for  the  Soldiers         387 

fault,  to  bring  news  from  the  hospitals  at  Vicksburg, 
Memphis,  Murfreesboro'  and  Nashville,  to  make  in- 
quiries for  missing  men  through  the  Hospital  Directory 
of  the  Commission,  to  make  donations  of  money,  always 
needed,  to  retail  their  sorrows,  and  sometimes  to  idle 
away  an  hour  in  the  midst  of  the  hurrying,  writing, 
copying,  mailing,  packing  and  shipping  of  this  busy 
place. 

The  sun  declines  westward,  its  fervent  heat  is  abat- 
ing, and  the  hands  of  the  clock  point  to  the  hour  of 
six,  and  sometimes  to  seven.  Wearied  in  body, 
exhausted  mentally,  and  saturated  with  the  passing 
streams  of  others'  sorrows,  I  select  the  letters  which 
must  be  answered  by  to-morrow  morning's  mail, 
replies  to  which  have  been  delayed  by  the  interrup- 
tions of  the  day,  and  again  hail  the  street-car,  which 
takes  me  to  my  home. 


100.    Gifts  for  the  Soldiers 

By  Mary  Ashton  Livermore  (1863) 

A  poor  girl,  who  called  herself  a  tailoress,  came 
one  day  to  the  rooms  of  the  Commission. 

"  I  do  not  feel  right,"  she  said,  "  that  I  am  doing 
nothing  for  our  soldiers  in  the  hospitals.  I  must  do 
something  immediately.  Which  do  you  prefer  —  that 
I  should  give  money,  or  buy  material  and  manufac- 
ture it  into  hospital  clothing  ?  " 

"You  must  be  governed  by  your  circumstances," 
was  the  answer  made  her.  "  We  need  both  money 
and  supplies,  and  you  must  do  that  which  is  most 
convenient  for  you." 


388  Women  and  the  War       [No.  100 

"  I  prefer  to  give  money,  if  it  will  do  as  much 
good." 

"  Very  well,  then,  give  money.  We  need  it  badly, 
and  without  it  cannot  do  what  is  most  necessary  for 
our  brave  men." 

"  I  will  give  the  Commission  my  net  earnings  for 
the  next  two  weeks.  I  would  give  more,  but  my 
mother  is  an  invalid,  and  I  help  support  her.  Usually 
I  make  but  one  vest  a  day,  as  I  do  '  custom  work,'  and 
am  well  paid  for  it.  But  these  next  two  weeks,  which 
belong  to  the  soldiers,  I  shall  work  earlier  and  later." 

In  two  weeks  she  came  again,  the  poor  sewing  girl, 
with  a  radiant  face.  Opening  her  porte-monnaie,  she 
counted  out  ninteen  dollars  and  thirty-seven  cents. 
She  had  stitched  into  the  hours  of  midnight  on  every 
one  of  the  working  days  of  those  two  weeks. 

A  little  girl,  not  nine  years  old,  with  sweet  and 
timid  grace,  entered  one  afternoon,  and  laid  a  five- 
dollar  gold  piece  on  my  desk.  Half-frightened,  she 
told  its  story.  "  My  uncle  gave  me  that  before  the 
war,  and  I  was  going  to  keep  it  always.  But  he's 
got  killed  in  the  army,  and  now  mother  says  I  may 
give  it  to  the  soldiers  if  I  want  to  —  and  I'd  like  to. 
Will  it  buy  much  for  them  ? " 

I  led  the  child  to  the  store-room,  and  pointed  out 
to  her  what  it  would  buy  —  so  many  cans  of  con- 
densed milk,  or  so  many  bottles  of  ale,  or  so  many 
pounds  of  tea,  or  codfish.  Her  face  brightened  with 
pleasure.  But  when  I  explained  that  her  five-dollar 
gold  piece  was  equal  then  to  seven  and  a  half  dollars 
in  greenbacks,  and  told  her  how  much  comfort  could 
be  carried  into  a  hospital  with  the  amount  of  stores  it 
would  purchase,  she  fairly  danced  for  joy.  "  Why, 
my  five  dollars  will  do  lots  of  good,  won't  it  ? " 


no.  100]       Gifts  for  the  Soldiers         389 

Folding  her  hands  before  her  in  a  charmingly  ear- 
nest way,  she  begged  me  to  tell  her  something  that 
I  had  seen  in  the  hospitals.  A  narration  of  a  few 
touching  events,  such  as  would  not  too  severely  shock 
the  child,  but  which  showed  the  necessity  of  con- 
tinued benevolence  to  the  hospitals,  brought  tears  to 
her  eyes,  and  the  resolution  to  her  lips,  to  "  get  all 
the  girls  to  save  their  money  to  buy  things  for  the 
wounded  soldiers."  And  away  she  ran,  happy  in  the 
luxury  of  doing  good. 

A  little  urchin  who  often  thrust  his  unkempt  pate 
into  the  room,  with  the  shrill  cry  of  "  Matches ! 
Matches  !  "  had  stood  a  little  apart,  watching  the  girl, 
and  listening  to  the  conversation.  As  she  disap- 
peared, he  fumbled  in  his  pockets,  and  drew  out  a 
small  handful  of  crumpled  fractional  currency,  such 
as  was  then  in  use.  "  Here,"  said  he,  "  I'll  give  yer 
suthin'  for  them  are  sick  fellers  !  "  And  he  put  fifty- 
five  cents  in  my  hand,  all  in  five-cent  currency.  I 
was  surprised,  and  hesitated. 

"  No,  my  boy,  don't  give  it.  I  am  afraid  you  can- 
not afford  it.  You're  a  noble  little  fellow,  but  that  is 
more  than  you  ought  to  give.  You  keep  it,  and  I'll 
give  fifty-five  cents  for  you  —  or  somebody  else  will." 

"  Git  eout !  "  was  his  disgusted  commentary  on  my 
proposal.  "  Yer  take  it,  now.  P'raps  I  ain't  so  poor 
as  yer  think.  My  father,  he  saws  wood,  and  my 
mother,  she  takes  in  washin',  and  I  sells  matches,  and 
Tom,  he  sells  papers,  and  p'raps  we've  got  more 
money  than  yer  think.  Our  Bob,  he'd  a  gone  to  the 
war  hisself,  but  he  got  his  leg  cut  off  on  the  railroad, 
in  a  smash-up.  He  was  a  brakeman,  yer  see.  You 
take  this,  now  !  " 

I  took  the  crumpled  currency.     I  forgot  the  boy's 


39° 


Women  and  the  War      [No. 


dirty  face  and  tattered  cap  ;  I  forgot  that  I  had  called 
the  little  tatterdemalion  a  "  nuisance  "  every  day  for 
months,  when  he  had  caused  me  to  jump  from  my 
seat  with  his  shrill,  unexpected  cry  of  "  Matches ! " 
and  I  actually  stooped  to  kiss  him. 

He  divined  my  intention  and  darted  out  on  the 
sidewalk  as  if  he  had  been  shot. 

"  No,  yer  don't !  "  he  said,  shaking  his  tangled  head 
at  me,  and  looking  as  if  he  had  escaped  a  great  dan- 
ger.    "  I  ain't  one  o'  that  kissin'  sort !  " 

Ever  after,  when  he  met  me,  he  gave  me  a  wide 
berth,  and  walked  off  the  sidewalk  into  the  gutter, 
eyeing  me  with  a  suspicious,  sidelong  glance,  as 
though  he  suspected  I  still  thought  of  kissing  him. 
If  I  spoke  to  him,  he  looked  at  me  shyly  and  made 
no  reply.  But  if  I  passed  him  without  speaking,  he 
challenged  me  with  a  hearty  "  Hullo,  yer ! "  that 
brought  me  to  an  instant  halt. 


ioi.    A  Too  Successful  Tombola 

By  Eliza  Ripley  (1862) 

This  piece  In  the  neighboring  city  of  Baton  Rouge  we  organ- 

describes  the  jze(j  faQ    Campaign    Sewing    Society :    its  very  title 

Southern  .  .         J  J 

organizations  snows  now  transient  we  regarded  the  emergency ; 
for  the  Con-  how  little  we  deemed  the  campaign  would  develop 
diers>  into  a  four  years'  war.     There  many  of  us  received 

our  first  lessons  in  the  intricacies  of  coats  and  panta- 
loons. I  so  well  remember  when,  in  the  glory  of  my 
new  acquirements,  I  proudly  made  a  pair  of  cotton- 
ade  trousers  for  a  brother  we  were  fitting  out  in  sur- 
passing  style   for   service,    my    embarrassment    and 


no.  ioi]         Successful  Tombola  391 

consternation  when  I  overheard  him  slyly  remark  to 
my  husband  that  he  had  to  stand  on  his  head  to  but- 
ton them  —  they  lapped  the  wrong  way!  Stockings 
had  also  to  be  provided,  and  expert  knitters  found 
constant  work.  By  wearing  a  knitting  bag  at  my 
side,  and  utilizing  every  moment,  I  was  by  no  means 


CONFEDERATE    MONEY. 


the  only  one  able  to  turn  off  a  coarse  cotton  stocking, 
with  a  rather  short  leg,  every  day. 

From  the  factory  in  our  little  city  —  the  only  one, 
by  the  way,  of  any  size  or  importance  in  the  state  — 
we  procured  the  cloth  required  for  suits,  but  in  the 
lapse  of  time,  the  supply  of  buttons,  thread,  needles, 
and  tape,  in  fact  of  all  the  little  accessories  of  the 
sewing  room,  was  exhausted,  and  to  replenish  the 
stock  our  thoughts  and  conversation  were  necessarily 


a  kind  of 
raffle 


392         Women  and  the  War       [No.  101 

turned  into  financial  channels.  I  cordially  recommend 
to  societies  and  impecunious  institutions  the  scheme 
in  all  its  entirety  that  we  adopted,  as  vastly  superior 
to  the  ordinary  and  much  maligned  fair;  the  plan 
was  the  offspring  of  necessity ;  the  demand  was  so 
instant  and  urgent  that  we  could  undertake  no  fair  or 
entertainment  that  involved  time,  work,  or  expense. 
a  tombola  is  A  tombola,  where  every  article  is  donated  and 
every  ticket  draws  a  prize,  was  the  happy  result  of 
numerous  conferences. .  The  scheme  was  discussed 
with  husbands  and  brothers ;  each  suggested  an  ad- 
vancement or  improvement  on  the  other,  until  the 
project  expanded  so  greatly,  including  all  classes  and 
conditions*  of  donors,  that  it  was  quickly  found  that 
not  only  a  large  hall,  but  a  stable  and  a  warehouse 
would  also  be  required  to  hold  the  contributions, 
which  embraced  every  imaginable  article  from  a  tooth- 
pick to  a  cow ! 

The  hall  was  soon  overflowing  with  minor  articles 
from  houses  and  shops.  Nothing  was  either  too 
costly  or  too  insignificant  to  be  refused :  a  glass 
show-case  glittered  with  jewelry  of  all  styles  and 
patterns,  and  bits  of  rare  old  silver ;  pictures,  and  en- 
gravings, old  and  faded,  new  and  valuable,  hung  side 
by  side  on  the  walls ;  odd  pieces  of  furniture,  work- 
boxes,  lamps  and  candelabra  were*  arranged  here  and 
there,  to  stand  out  in  bold  relief  amid  an  immense 
array  of  pencils,  tweezers,  scissors,  penknives,  tooth- 
picks, darning  needles,  and  such  trifles ;  the  stalls  of 
the  stable  were  tenanted  by  mules,  cows,  hogs  with 
whole  litters  of  pigs,  and  varieties  of  poultry ;  the 
warehouse  groaned  under  the  weight  of  barrels  of 
sugar,  molasses,  and  rice,  and  bushels  of  meal,  pota- 
toes, turnips  and  corn.     Tickets  for  a  chance  at  this 


no.  101]         Successful  'Tombola  393 

miscellaneous  collection  sold  for  one  dollar  each.  As 
is  ever  the  case,  the  blind  goddess  is  capricious  :  with 
the  exception  of  an  old  negro  woman  who  won  a  set 
of  pearls,  I  cannot  remember  anyone  who  secured  a 
prize  worth  the  price  of  the  ticket.  I  invested  in 
twenty  tickets,  for  which  I  received  nineteen  lead- 
pencils  and  a  frolicsome  old  goat,  with  beard  hanging 
down  to  his  knees,  and  horns  like  those  which  brought 
down  the  walls  of  Jericho.  Need  I  add  that  the  gen- 
eral commanding  refused  to  receive  that  formidable 
animal  at  Arlington  ? 

The  tombola  was  a  grand,  an  overwhelming  suc- 
cess ;  without  one  dollar  of  outlay  —  the  buildings  and 
necessary  printing  had  been  donated — we  made  six 
thousand  dollars.  Before  this  sum  could  be  sent  to 
New  Orleans,  that  city  was  in  the  hands  of  its 
captors. 

Thus  cut  off  from  the  means  of  securing  necessary 
supplies,  and  at  the  same  time  for  facilities  for  com- 
munication with  those  whom  we  sought  to  aid,  the 
Campaign  Sewing  Society  sadly  disbanded.  The 
busy  workers  retired  to  their  own  houses,  the  treas- 
urer fled  with  the  funds  for  safe-keeping,  and,  when, 
she  emerged  from  her  retreat,  six  thousand  dollars  in 
Confederate  paper  was  not  worth  six  cents. 


394         Women  and  the  War      [No.  xo* 


i 02.    "I  am  a  Southern  Girl" 

Oh,  yes,  I  am  a  Southern  girl 

"  And  glory  in  the  name, 

And  boast  it  with  far  greater  pride 

Than  glittering  wealth  or  fame. 
We  envy  not  the  Northern  girl 

With  robes  of  beauty  rare, 
Though  diamonds  grace  her  snowy  neck 

And  pearls  bedeck  her  hair. 


Dress  goods 
of  all  kinds 
were  very 
scarce  and 
dear  in  the 
South  during 
the  war. 


Hurrah,  hurrah, 

For  the  Sunny  South  so  dear, 
Three  cheers  for  the  homespun  dress 

That  Southern  ladies  wear ! 

The  homespun  dress  is  plain,  I  know, 

My  hat's  palmetto,  too, 
But  then  it  shows  what  Southern  girls 

For  Southern  rights  will  do. 
We  have  sent  the  bravest  of  our  land 

To  battle  with  the  foe 
And  we  will  lend  a  helping  hand  ; 

We  love  the  South,  you  know. 


Now,  Northern  goods  are  out  of  date, 

And  since  old  Abe's  blockade, 
We  Southern  girls  can  be  content 

With  goods  all  Southern  made. 
We  sent  our  sweethearts  to  the  war, 

But,  dear  girls,  never  mind, 
Your  soldier  love  will  ne'er  forget 

The  girl  he  left  behind. 


no.  io3]  A  Southern  Girl  395 

The  soldier  is  the  lad  for  me, 

A  brave  heart  I  adore ; 
And  when  the  Sunny  South  is  free, 

And  when  the  fight's  no  more, 
I'll  choose  me  then  a  lover  brave 

From  out  the  gallant  band ; 
The  soldier  lad  I  love  the  best 

Shall  have  my  heart  and  hand. 

The  Southern  land's  a  glorious  land, 

And  has  a  glorious  cause ; 
Then  cheer,  three  cheers  for  Southern  rights 

And  for  the  Southern  boys, 
We'll  scorn  to  wear  a  bit  of  silk, 

A  bit  of  Northern  lace, 
And  make  our  homespun  dresses  up, 

And  wear  them  with  such  grace. 

And  now,  young  men,  a  word  to  you : 

If  you  would  win  the  fair, 
Go  to  the  field  where  honor  calls, 

And  win  your  lady  there. 
Remember  that  our  brightest  smiles 

Are  for  the  true  and  brave, 
And  that  our  tears  are  all  for  those 

Who  fill  a  soldier's  grave. 


103.    The  Yankee  Wounded 

By  B.  Estvan  (1863) 

I  took  a  great  interest  in  the  fate  of  the  poor 
wounded  prisoners  in  the  hospitals  at  Richmond,  — 
firstly,  because,  owing  to  the  animosity  which  prevailed 


396         Women  and  the  War       [No.  io3 

against  the  Yankees,  I  fancied  they  would  not  be 
much  cared  for ;  and,  secondly,  because  I  was  aware 
that,  even  with  the  best  intentions,  the  Government 
could  not  do  much  for  so  many  as  thirty  thousand 
wounded  men.  Richmond,  at  that  time,  had  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  great  hospital.  Every  public  building 
was  filled  with  the  sick  and  wounded.  Many  of  the 
patients  had  never  been  in  action.  Bad  food,  insuffi- 
cient clothing,  and  want  of  proper  attention  had 
brought  them  into  a  state  of  disease.  Two  surgeons 
to  attend  upon  six  hundred  patients  were  all  I  found 
in  one  hospital ;  happily,  among  the  prisoners  there 
were  a  few  medical  men,  who  did  what  they  could  to 
alleviate  the  suffering  of  their  comrades.  I  shud- 
dered at  the  spectacle  I  had  to  witness ;  the  wounds 
of  many  had  not  been  attended  to,  and  their  clothing 
was  stiff  from  clotted  blood.  I  did  what  I  could  to 
improve  their  condition.  I  went  from  bed  to  bed, 
promising  to  exert  all  my  influence  in  their  favor,  and 
many  a  poor  fellow  looked  me  his  silent  thanks. 

I  called  upon  General  Winder  to  represent  the  case 
of  these  unfortunate  men.  Whilst  every  attention 
was  paid  to  our  own  wounded  and  sick  by  the  inhabi- 
tants, the  unfortunate  prisoners  were  allowed  to  rot 
and  die.  General  Winder  could  not  withstand  my 
appeal,  and  promised  me  his  assistance.  I  then  ap- 
pealed to  the  German  and  Irish  population  to  come 
forward  and  do  something  for  the  poor  prisoners, 
and  in  a  few  hours  that  appeal  was  responded  to.  I 
myself  sent  everything  I  could  spare  from  my  ward- 
robe. Many  a  bottle  of  wine  and  parcel  of  lint,  pre- 
pared by  German  ladies,  now  found  their  way  to  the 
hospitals,  and  the  Irish  population,  with  their  natural 
good  nature,  brought  all  the  linen  they  could  spare 


No.  io3]  Yankee  Wounded  397 

to  the  surgeons  of  the  prisoners.  When  it  is  con- 
sidered that  the  persons  who  did  this  ran  the  risk  of 
being  arrested  by  the  secret  police,  the  very  smallest 
gifts  rank  as  great  sacrifices,  for  even  a  glance  of 
pity  at  a  poor  sick  enemy  would  have  brought  them 
under  the  suspicion  of  being  traitors  to  their  country. 
In  a  few  days  some  sort  of  system  was  introduced 
into  the  prisoners'  hospital.  The  sick  were  attended 
to  and  waited  upon,  received  changes  of  linen,  and 
were  cheered  with  the  hope  of  recovery.  Many  a 
tear  rolled  down  their  pale  cheeks,  and  many  a  bless- 
ing was  bestowed  on  me  on  the  day  when  I  took 
leave  of  them,  and  I  left  with  the  conviction  that  I 
had  preserved  the  life  of  many  a  brave  fellow. 

After  the  seven  days'  fight  before  Richmond, 
hundreds  of  wounded,  friend  and  foe,  were  brought 
into  Richmond,  where  for  a  long  time  they  were  left 
exposed  to  a  broiling  sun  upon  the  platform  of  the 
railway  station.  I  went  with  a  friend  of  mine,  Captain 
Travers,  son  of  an  admiral  in  the  Confederate  fleet, 
to  the  station,  to  render  help.  Owing  to  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  Merrimac,  Captain  Travers  was  out  of 
employment,  and  was  in  plain  clothes.  Captain 
Travers  was  a  fine-looking  man,  had  travelled  far, 
and  was  a  perfect  gentleman.  When  we  reached  the 
station,  the  greatest  confusion  prevailed ;  groups  of 
wounded  lay  in  all  directions ;  a  number  of  benevo- 
lent ladies,  with  their  black  servants,  were  distribut- 
ing tea,  coffee,  chocolate,  and  broth,  to  the  wounded. 

However,  I  soon  observed  that  they  took  no  notice 
of  many  of  the  sufferers.  Some  one  touched  my  spur, 
and  on  looking  down,  I  beheld  one  of  those  ghastly 
faces  which  can  never  be  forgotten.  It  was  that  of  a 
stately-looking  soldier  of  the  enemy,  in  full  uniform. 


398 


Women  and  the  War      [No.  io3 


"You  are  a  German  officer,"  he  said.  "Yes,  com- 
rade," I  replied;  and  his  eye  brightened.  "Then  I 
beg  of  you,  most  earnestly,"  he  said,  "to  get  me  a 
cup  of  coffee."  Both  Travers  and  myself  immedi- 
ately went  up  to  a  lady  who  belongs  to  one. of  the 
best  families  of  the  South,  and  who  had  just  passed 
the  poor  fellow  by,  without  taking  any  notice  of  him. 
"Madam  St.  Clair,"  I  said,  "will  you  give  me  a  cup 
of  coffee  for  a  wounded  man  ?  "  "  Oh,  certainly,"  she 
said,  and  her  servant  handed  me  a  cup.  I  hastened 
back,  but  whilst  I  was  stooping  down  to  give  it  to  the 
wounded  man,  some  one  pulled  me  by  the  sleeve,  and 
to  my  astonishment,  it  was  Mrs.  St.  Clair,  who,  in  a 
harsh  voice,  asked  me  if  I  was  aware  I  was  helping  a 
miserable  Yankee.  "  No,  madam,"  I  replied,  "  I  do 
not  know  that,  but  I  know  that  he  is  a  brave  soldier, 
as  is  proved  by  his  wounds."  At  the  same  time  I 
gave  this  prejudiced  woman  a  look  of  scorn,  which 
made  her  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  and  I  then  gave  the 
coffee  to  the  wounded  man.  Tears  ran  down  his  fur- 
rowed, sunburnt  cheeks,  and  having  somewhat  re- 
covered himself,  he  whispered  to  me,  "  I  am  a  Swiss ; 
I  served  for  ten  years  in  the  Kabermatter' regiment 
at  Naples,  but  never  thought  I  should  die  in  such  a 
hole  as  this."  I  endeavored  to  console  him  as  best  I 
could. 

Captain  Travers  now  arrived  with  a  basket  of 
strawberries,  and  pressing  some  between  his  fingers, 
put  them  into  the  poor  fellow's  mouth.  Whilst  thus 
occupied,  a  man  seized  him  by  the  arm,  and  said,  "  I 
arrest  you."  It  was  one  of  the  police  agents.  Cap- 
tain Travers  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height.  "  On 
what  ground  ?  "  he  said.  "  Because  you  are  helping 
the  enemy,"  he  replied,  "and  all  the  ladies  here  are 


no.  io4]      A  Nurse  s  Experience        399 

talking  about  it."  "If  it  is  your  intention  to  arrest  me, 
you  can  do  your  vile  work  at  the  American  Hotel, 
where  I  am  staying.  My  name  is  Captain  Travers." 
As  if  he  had  been  bitten  by  a  snake,  the  miserable 
wretch  started  back,  pleaded  duty  and  the  instigation 
of  the  ladies  as  his  excuse,  and  went  away. 


104.    A  Nurse's  Experience 

By  Louisa  May  Alcott  (1862) 

Presently  Miss  Blank  tore  me  from  my  refuge  it  is  worth 
behind  piles  of  one-sleeved  shirts,  odd  socks,  band-  whiietokno' 

,   , .  ,  ,  ,        ,  ,       ,      how  much 

ages  and  lint ;  put  basm,  sponge,  towels,  and  a  block   our  famers 
of  brown  soap  into  my  hands  with  these  appalling  endured  in 

j.         ,.  the  Civil  Wa 

directions:—  andhowter 

"  Come,  my  dear,  begin  to  wash  as  fast  as  you  can.   ribie  war  is. 
Tell  them  to  take  off  socks,  coats,  and  shirts,  scrub 
them  well,  put  on   clean  shirts,  and  the  attendants 
will  finish  them  off,  and  lay  them  in  bed." 

If  she  had  requested  me  to  shave  them  all,  or 
dance  a  hornpipe  on  the  stove  funnel,  I  should  have 
been  less  staggered;  but  to  scrub  some  dozen  lords 
of  creation  at  a  moment's  notice,  was  really  — 
really — .  However,  there  was  no  time  for  nonsense, 
and  having  resolved  when  I  came  to  do  everything 
I  was  bid,  I  drowned  my  scruples  in  my  wash-bowl, 
clutched  my  soap  manfully,  and  assuming  a  business- 
like air,  made  a  dab  at  the  first  dirty  specimen  I  saw, 
bent  on  performing  my  task  vi  et  armis  if  necessary. 
I  chanced  to  light  on  a  withered  old  Irishman, 
wounded  in  the  head,  which  caused  that  portion  of 
his  frame  to  be  tastefully  laid  out  like  a  garden,  the 


400         Women  and  the  War       [No.  io4 

bandages  being  the  walks,  his  hair  the  shubbery. 
He  was  so  overpowered  by  the  honor  of  having  a 
lady  wash  him,  as  he  expressed  it,  that  he  did  nothing 
but  roll  up  his  eyes,  and  bless  me,  in  an  irresistible 
style  which  was  too  much  for  my  sense  of  the  ludi- 


A   NORTHERN    BELLE. 


crous ;  so  we  laughed  together,  and  when  I  knelt 
down  to  take  off  his  shoes,  he  "flopped"  also  and 
wouldn't  hear  of  my  touching  "them  dirty  craters. 
May  your  bed  above  be  aisy  darlin'  for  the  day's 
work   ye   are    doing !  —  Woosh !    there   ye   are,   and 


no.  io4]      A  Nurses  Experience        401 

bedad,  it's  hard  tellin'  which  is  the  dirtiest,  the  fut  or 
the  shoes."  It  was,  and  if  he  hadn't  been  to  the  fore, 
I  should  have  gone  on  pulling  under  the  impression 
that  the  "fut"  was  a  boot,  for  trousers,  socks,  shoes, 
and  legs  were  a  mass  of  mud.  This  comical  tableau 
produced  a  general  grin,  at  which  propitious  begin- 
ning I  took  heart,  and  scrubbed  away  like  any  tidy 
parent  on  a  Saturday  night.  Some  of  them  took  the 
performance  like  sleepy  children,  leaning  their  tired 
heads  against  me  while  I  worked,  others  looked 
grimly  scandalized,  and  several  of  the  roughest 
colored  like  bashful  girls.  One  wore  a  soiled  little 
bag  about  his  neck,  and  as  I  moved  it  to  bathe  his 
wounded  breast,  I  said  :  — 

"  Your  talisman  didn't  save  you,  did  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  reckon  it  did,  marm,  for  that  shot  would 
have  gone  a  couple  of  inches  deeper  but  for  my  old 
mammy's  camphor  bag,"  answered  %  the  cheerful 
philosopher. 

Another,  with  a  gun  shot  through  the  cheek,  asked 
for  a  looking-glass,  and  when  I  brought  one,  regarded 
his  swollen  face  with  a  dolorous  expression,  as  he 
muttered :  — 

"  I  vow  that's  bad !  I  warn't  a  bad  looking  chap 
before,  and  now  I'm  done  for.  Won't  there  be  a 
thundering  scar  ?  and  what  on  earth  will  Josephine 
Skinner  say  ? " 

He  looked  at  me  with  his  one  eye  so  appealingly 
that  I  controlled  my  laughter,  and  assured  him  that  if 
Josephine  was  a  girl  of  sense,  she  would  admire  the 
honorable  scar,  as  a  lasting  proof  that  he  had  faced 
the  enemy,  for  all  women  thought  a  wound  the  best 
decoration  a  brave  soldier  could  wear. 

The  next  scrubbee  was  a  nice  looking'  lad,  with 


4-0  2         Women  and  the  War      [No.  io4 

a  curly  brown  mane,  and  a  budding  trace  of  ginger- 
bread over  the  lip,  which  he  called  his  beard,  and 
defended  stoutly  when  the  barber  jocosely  suggested 
its  immolation.  He  lay  on  a  bed  with  one  leg  gone 
and  the  right  arm  so  shattered  that  it  must  evidently 
follow ;  yet  the  little  Sergeant  was  as  merry  as  if  his 
afflictions  were  not  worth  lamenting  over,  and  when 
a  drop  or  two  of  salt  water  mingled  with  my  suds  at 
the  sight  of  this  strong  young  body  so  marred  and 
maimed,  the  boy  looked  up  with  a  brave  smile 
though  there  was  a  little  quiver  on  the  lips,  as  he 
said :  — 

"  Now  don't  you  fret  yourself  about  me,  miss ;  I'm 
first  rate  here,  for  it's  nuts  to  lie  still  on  this  bed, 
after  knocking  about  in  those  confounded  ambulances, 
that  shake  what  there  is  left  of  a  fellow  to  jelly.  I 
never  was  in  one  of  these  places  before,  and  think 
this  cleaning  up  a  jolly  thing  for  us,  though  I'm 
afraid  it  isn't  for  you  ladies." 

"  Is  this  you're  first  battle,  Sergeant  ?  " 

"  No,  miss  ;  I've  been  in  six  scrimmages,  and  never 
got  a  scratch  till  this  last  one ;  but  it's  done  the  busi- 
ness pretty  thoroughly  for  me,  I  should  say.  Lord ! 
What  a  scramble  there  will  be  for  arms  and  legs 
when  we  old  boys  come  out  of  our  graves  on  Judg- 
ment Day.  Wonder  if  we  shall  get  our  own  again  ? 
If  we  do,  my  leg  will  have  to  tramp  from  Fredericks- 
burg, my  arm  from  here,  I  suppose,  and  meet  my 
body,  wherever  it  may  be." 

The  fancy  seemed  to  tickle  him  mightily,  for  he 
laughed  blithely,  and  so  did  I ;  which,  no  doubt, 
causes  the  new  nurse  to  be  regarded  as  a  light-minded 
sinner  by  the  Chaplain,  who  roamed  vaguely  about, 
informing  the  men  that  they  were  all  worms,  corrupt 


no.  105]  In  the  Hospital 


403 


of  heart,  with  perishable  bodies,  and  souls  only  to 
be  saved  by  a  diligent  perusal  of  certain  tracts,  and 
other  equally  cheering  bits  of  spiritual  consolation, 
when  spirituous  ditto  would  have  been  preferred. 


105.    In  the  Hospital 

By  James  Kendall  Hosmer  (1863) 

My  first  visit  to  the  hospital  put  me  face  to  face 
with  its  gloomiest  spectacles.     A  mail  had  come,  and 


IN   THE   HOSPITAL. 


it  fell  to  me  to  distribute  to  the  patients  their  letters. 
I  had  been  giving  letters  to  well  men,  had  my  own 
pocket  full,  was  happy  myself,  and  had  come  from 
among  men  as  happy  as  men  ever  are ;  for  I  have 
discovered  the  secret  of  happiness  to  be  hidden  in 


404         Women  and  the  War       [No.  105 

mail-bags.  I  rushed  up  the  stairs  leading  to  the  sec- 
ond story  of  the  building,  the  rooms  of  which  are 
used  as  part  of  the  hospital.  Two  or  three  doors 
were  before  me.  I  opened  the  first,  and  found  my- 
self alone  in  the  presence  of  a  corpse.  It  was  the 
body  of  a  man  who  had  died  the  night  before.  He 
lay  in  full  soldier's  dress,  decently  brushed  coat  with 
military  buttons,  and  with  a  white  cloth  covering  the 
face.  He  was  buried  in  the  afternoon ;  the  regiment 
drawn  up  in  a  hollow  square,  solemnly  silent,  while 
the  service  was  performed ;  then  standing  reverently 
while  the  body  and  its  escort  with  the  muffled  drum 
moved  to  the  burial.  I  have  heard  of  the  wail  of 
the  fife,  but  never  made  it  real  to  myself  until  then, 
when  across  the  parade-ground,  down  the  street,  then 
from  the  distance,  came  the  notes  of  the  Dead  March. 

In  the  next  room  to  the  one  in  which  lay  the 
corpse,  the  floor  was  covered  with  pale,  sick  men. 
Now  they  have  rough  bedsteads  or  bunks ;  but  then 
there  was  nothing  but  the  mattress  under  them,  and 
sometimes  only  the  blankets.  One  or  two  attendants, 
as  many  as  could  be  spared  from  the  regiment,  had 
the  care  of  the  whole ;  but  they  were  far  too  few. 
One  poor  man  was  in  a  sad  way,  with  inflammatory 
rheumatism,  which  made  it  very  painful  for  him  to 
stir ;  —  crouching,  wrapped  up  in  blankets  over  the 
fire,  or  stretched  out  on  a  floor.  God  pity  the  world 
if  it  has  sights  in  it  more  melancholy  than  a  military 
hospital ! 

The  hospital  of  our  regiment  is  only  in  part  located 
in  these  rooms,  of  which  I  have  been  writing.  Most 
'of  the  patients  (I  am  sorry  to  write,  they  are  very  nu- 
merous) are  in  a  larger  building,  once  a  hotel,  which 
lies  a  few  rods  outside  the  lines.     Well  do  I  know  the 


no.  105]  In  the  Hospital  405 

road  thither  now,  by  night  or  day,  by  storm  or  sun- 
shine ;  for,  after  the  doctor's  visits,  it  is  my  work  to 
go  to  the  hospital-steward  after  the  medicines  and 
comforts  for  my  sick  men.  How  many  times  already 
have  I  climbed  the  steep  clay  bank  of  the  parapet, 
then  slid  down  into  the  ditch  outside!  —  a  hill  of  dif- 
ficulty in  bad  weather,  when  one's  feet  slip  from 
under  him  in  the  slimy  soil.  The  old  bar-room  of 
the  hotel  is  now  the  hospital-kitchen  and  head-quar- 
ters of  the  surgeon  and  steward.  Above  the  bar  is 
a  flaring  gilt  sign,  "  Rainbow  Saloon " ;  and  below 
it,  along  the  shelves  which  once  held  the  liquors, 
are  arranged  the  apothecary  stores  of  the  regiment. 
The  steward  is  constantly  busy,  — one  of  the  hardest- 
worked  men  in  the  regiment,  I  believe ;  for  he  pre- 
pares pills  and  powders  by  the  thousand,  and  the 
rattle  of  his  pestle  is  almost  constant. 

In  the  rooms  above  lie  the  sick  men,  and  in  one 
apartment  the  surgeon  is  quartered.  Every  morn- 
ing, just  at  light,  "  surgeon's  call"  is  beaten;  and 
from  each  company  a  sergeant  marches  off  at  the 
head  of  a  long  line  of  sick  men  to  be  prescribed  for. 
These  men  are  unwell,  but  not  so  badly  off  as  to  be 
obliged  to  leave  their  ordinary  quarters  for  the  ac- 
commodations of  the  hospital. 

Let  us  go  up  stairs  into  this  second  story.  At  the 
head  of  the  staircase,  the  door  of  a  room  is  ajar;  and 
I  see  the  bed  on  which  generally  is  lying  one  of  the 
sickest  patients  of  the  hospital,  some  man  near  to 
death,  —  a  comfortable,  canopied  bed,  a  death-bed 
for  numbers.  To-night,  poor  Paine,  of  our  company, 
who  died  a  little  while  ago,  has  just  been  laid  out 
there.  An  entry  runs  north  and  south,  from  which, 
on  each  side,   open  the  doors  of  other  sick-rooms, 


4-o6         Women  and  the  War      [No.  io5 

where  men  with  fever  and  dysentery,  with  agues, 
and  racking,  lung-shattering  coughs,  lie  stretched 
on  mattresses.  Here  is  one  with  ghastly  fever-light 
in  his  eyes ;  there,  one  pale  and  hollow-cheeked. 
Wrapped  to  the  chin  in  blankets,  some  are ;  some 
parched  with  the  fire  of  disease,  —  their  buttons  and 
gay  dress-coats,  the  finery  in  which  they  used  to 
appear   at   dress-parade,  hanging  forlornly  overhead. 

The  nurses,  too,  looked  jaded  and  worn :  and  no 
wonder ;  for,  with  a  dismal  contagion,  the  torpor  and 
weariness  in  the  faces  about  will  communicate  itself 
to  the  attendants  and  visitors,  and  the  most  cheerful 
countenance  can  hardly  help  becoming  forlorn.  Our 
chaplain  and  colonel  (both  good,  energetic,  and  use- 
ful men)  make  it  part  of  their  daily  duty  to  go  to 
every  couch,  and  befriend  the  poor  fellows  lying 
there;  and  their  visits  are  the  golden  hours  of  the 
day  at  the  hospital, — waited  and  prayed  for.  The 
doctor's  apartment  is  large.  In  one  corner  are  piled 
up  the  "  stretchers,"  the  cots  with  handles,  which  are 
meant  to  carry  wounded  men  off  the  field.  At  day- 
break, each  day,  this  room  is  filled  with  the  proces- 
sion which  answers  the  surgeon's  call. 

Now  I  am  a  nurse  in  the  hospital ;  though  in  the 
room,  my  "  ward,"  I  have  only  two  patients,  and  can 
make  things  more  comfortable  than  in  most  of  the 
rooms.  Only  two  patients :  but  they  both  have  this 
terrible  fever;  and  I  fear  (God  knows  how  much!) 
for  this  young  brother.  Yet  I  must  veil  my  appre- 
hension. To-night,  a  letter  must  be  sent  North. 
My  heart  is  sinking ;  but  I  must  counterfeit  light- 
heartedness,  lest  they  take  alarm. 


no.  106]  Barbara  Frietchie  407 

106.    Barbara  Frietchie 

John  Greenleaf  Whittier  (1863) 

Up  from  the  meadows  rich  with  corn,  An  incident 

Clear  in  the  cool  September  morn,  SSta°" 

Fredericks- 

The  cluster'd  spires  of  Frederick  stand  burg  which 

Green-wall'd  by  the  hills  of  Maryland.  "hfs^oem  by 

the  Quaker 

Round  about  them  orchards  sweep,  p°et;  the  de- 

Apple-  and  peach-trees  fruited  deep.  changed* 

Fair  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord 

To  the  eyes  of  the  famish'd  rebel  horde, 

On  that  pleasant  morn  of  the  early  fall, 
When  Lee  march'd  over  the  mountain-wall,  — 

Over  the  mountains  winding  down, 
Horse  and  foot,  into  Frederick  town. 

Forty  flags  with  their  silver  stars, 
Forty  flags  with  their  crimson  bars, 

Flapp'd  in  the  morning  wind  :  the  sun 
Of  noon  look'd  down,  and  saw  not  one. 

Up  rose  old  Barbara  Frietchie  then, 
Bow'd  with  her  fourscore  years  and  ten ; 

Bravest  of  all  in  Frederick  town, 

She  took  up  the  flag  the  men  haul'd  down. 

In  her  attic  window  the  staff  she  set, 
To  show  that  one  heart  was  loyal  yet. 


4-o8         Women  and  the  War      [No.  106 

Up  the  street  came  the  rebel  tread, 
Stonewall  Jackson  riding  ahead. 

Under  his  slouch'd  hat  left  and  right 
He  glanced :  the  old  flag  met  his  sight. 

"  Halt !  "  —  the  dust-brown  ranks  stood  fast 
"  Fire  !  "  —  out  blazed  the  rifle  blast. 

It  shiver'd  the  window,  pane  and  sash  ; 
It  rent  the  banner  with  seam  and  gash. 

Quick,  as  it  fell  from  the  broken  staff, 
Dame  Barbara  snatch'd  the  silken  scarf. 

She  lean'd  far  out  on  the  window-sill, 
And  shook  it  forth  with  a  royal  will. 

"  Shoot,  if  you  must,  this  old  gray  head, 
But  spare  your  country's  flag,"  she  said. 

A  shade  of  sadness,  a  blush  of  shame 
Over  the  face  of  the  leader  came. 

The  nobler  nature  within  him  stirr'd 
To  life  at  that  woman's  deed  and  word : 

"  Who  touches  a  hair  of  yon  gray  head 
Dies  like  a  dog  !     March  on  !  "  he  said. 

All  day  long  through  Frederick  street 
Sounded  the  tread  of  marching  feet : 

All  day  long  that  free  flag  tost 
Over  the  heads  of  the  rebel  host. 


no.  io7]        A  Midnight  Flight  409 

Ever  its  torn  folds  rose  and  fell 

On  the  loyal  winds  that  loved  it  well ; 

And  through  the  hill-gaps  sunset  light 
Shone  over  it  with  a  warm  good-night. 

Barbara  Frietchie's  work  is  o'er, 

And  the  rebel  rides  on  his  raids  no  more, 

Honor  to  her !  and  let  a  tear 

Fall,  for  her  sake,  on  Stonewall's  bier. 

Over  Barbara  Frietchie's  grave, 
Flag  of  Freedom  and  Union,  wave ! 

Peace  and  order  and  beauty  draw 
Round  thy  symbol  of  light  and  law ; 

And  ever  the  stars  above  look  down 
On  thy  stars  below  in  Frederick  town ! 


107.    A    Midnight    Flight 

By  Eliza  Ripley  (1862) 

The  only  exact  date  I  can  remember,  and  that  I  An  account 
can  never  forget,  was  the  17th  of  December.  of  ^lanta"8 

The  weather  was  warm  for  the  season,  a  thick  fog  tion  on  the 
hung  over  the  river,  obscuring  objects  only  a  few  Mississippi 
yards  distant.  As  I  stood  by  the  window,  in  the 
early  morning,  completing  my  toilet,  the  white,  misty 
curtain  rolled  up  like  a  scroll,  revealing  a  fleet  of 
gunboats.  Far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  up  and  down 
and  around  our  point,  the  river  was  bristling  with 


4 1  o         Women  and  the  War      [No.  io7 

gayly  flagged  transports,  anchored  mid-stream,  wait- 
ing for  the  dissipation  of  the  mist  to  proceed.  In  a 
twinkling  all  was  excitement  with  the  hurry  and 
bustle  of  our  immediate  departure. 

A  breakfast  eaten  "on  the  fly"  as  it  were,  a  rush- 
ing here  and  there,  and  packing  of  necessaries  for 
our  journey,  God  only  knew  whither,  we  did  not  care 
where,  so  we  escaped  a  repetition  of  scenes  that  had 
made  us  old  before  our  time,  and  life  a  constant  ex- 
citement that  was  burning  us  up.  William  was  de- 
spatched to  the  city  on  a  tour  of  observation.  He 
returned,  to  report  ten  thousand  men  and  the  most 
warlike  demonstrations  that  the  darky's  genius  could 
invent ;  pickets  to  be  stationed  away  beyond  Arling- 
ton, and  all  of  us  to  be  embraced  within  the  lines  and 
made  to  "toe  de  mark."  "Mars  Jim,  and  every 
white  man  what  harbored  a  Confederate  soldier  de 
time  of  de  fight,  was  to  be  tuk  prisoner."  The  more 
William  told,  the  more  he  remembered  to  tell ;  and, 
long  before  he  was  through  with  his  recital,  I  was 
perplexed,  bewildered,  and  almost  distracted. 

The  negro  men  were  summoned  from  their  quarters 
to  help  load  the  wagon.  We  put  in  cooking  utensils, 
some  dishes  and  plates,  bedding  and  a  small  mattress, 
a  few  kegs  and  boxes  of  necessary  provisions,  a  trunk 
of  clothing,  some  small  bags  and  bundles  —  that  was 
all. 

The  mules  safely  locked  in  the  stable,  the  harnesses 
all  ready  to  slip  on,  extra  straps  and  ropes  thrown 
into  the  wagon  —  too  excited  to  sleep,  we  threw  our- 
selves on  our  beds  for  the  last  time ;  too  tired  to  talk, 
sore  at  heart ;  too  worn  out  to  weep.  There  we  lay 
in  a  fitful  and  uneasy  slumber.  In  the  dead  stillness 
of  the  night  there  came  a  low  tap  at  our  chamber 


no.  io7]        A  Midnight  Flight  411 

door.  "  Mars  Jim  !  "  My  husband  was  on  his  feet 
with  a  bound.  "  Your  niggers  is  all  gone  to  de  Yan- 
kees ;  de  pickets  is  on  our  place,  and  dey  done  told 
your  niggers  you  would  be  arrested  at  daylight." 
The  speaker  was  head  sugar  maker  on  an  adjoining 
plantation,  himself  a  slave.  "Call  Dominick  and  tell 
him  to  get  my  buggy  ready  while  I  put  on  some 
clothes,"  was  the  only  response.  I  lighted  the  candle 
and  hurried  my  husband  off,  while  he  whispered  direc- 
tions for  me  to  join  him  immediately  after  breakfast 
at  the  house  of  a  neighbor,  five  miles  back  of  us, 
which  he  could  speedily  reach  by  going  through  the 
woods,  and  to  have  one  of  the  men  drive  the  wagon, 
and  one  drive  the  ambulance  through  the  longer  but 
better  wagon-road. 

That  was  all  —  and  he  was  gone.  I  did  not  lie 
down  again,  but  wandered  around  in  an  aimless  sort 
of  way,  too  distracted  to  do  a  useful  or  sensible  thing. 

At  the  first  appearance  of  dawn  I  aroused  William 
to  prepare  breakfast,  and  Charlotte  to  get  the  table 
ready.  Before  the  children  were  awake,  I  was  down 
at  the  stable,  having  William  and  Willy  hitch  up  the 
teams.  I  saw  with  half  an  eye  that  William  was  not  William 
in  sympathy  with  our  plans,  and  knew  intuitively  that 
my  husband  distrusted  him.  He  who  had  been  my 
husband's  valet  in  his  gay  bachelor  days  and  our  con- 
fidential servant,  our  very  aid  and  help  in.  all  my 
bright  married  life,  had  had  his  poor  woolly  head 
turned  by  that  one  trip  to  town,  and  asserted  his 
independence  at  the  first  shadow  of  provocation. 
William  failing  me,  I  knew  I  must  seek  other  help. 

Being  ready  and  eager  to  start,  I  immediately  went 
down  to  the  quarters,  a  half-mile  distant ;  there  I 
waited,  going  from  cabin  to  cabin,  and  walked  to  the 


wanted  to  be 
free. 


412  Women  and  the  War      [No.  io7 

dwelling-house  and  back  again.  Willy  stood  by  the 
hitched-up  teams,  and  Sabe,  near  by,  held  the  baby 
in  her  arms,  while  little  Henry  clung  to  her  skirts. 
Then  back  to  the  quarters.  This  man  "  had  a  misery 
in  his  back  —  had  had  it  ever  since  the  crevasse"; 
that  man  "never  druv  in  his  life  —  didn't  I  know  he 
was  de  engineer?"  Another  man  " wouldn't  drive 
old  Sail  —  she  was  de  balkiest  mule  on  de  place ; 
you  won't  get  a  mile  from  here  'fore  she  takes  de 
contraries,  and  won't  budge  a  step." 

I  could  have  sat  down  and  wept  my  very  heart  out. 
It  was  long  past  noon ;  the  harnessed  mules  had  to 
be  fed,  and  William  made  out  to  say:  "We  had 
better  take  a  little  snack,  and  give  it  up ;  if  we  stayed 
home,  Mars  Jim  would  come  back;  the  Yankees 
didn't  have  nothin'  'gin  him." 

At  last  old  Dave  said  he  "  warn't  no  hand  wid 
mules,  but  he  'lowed  he  could  tackle  old  Sal  till  she 
balked."  There  was  no  time  for  bargaining  for 
another  driver  now.  I  caught  at  Dave's  offer  before 
he  knew  it,  only  stopping  long  enough  to  bid  all  the 
deluded  creatures  a  hasty  goodby. 

Dave  was  hurried  by  my  rapid  steps  back  to  the 
stable,  and  Sabe  came  out  with  the  tired  children. 
Just  as  I  thought  we  were  fairly  off,  William  an- 
nounced, "  Sence  you  was  gone  a  Yankee  gunboat 
is  cum  down,  and  I  see  it's  anchored  'tween  us  and 
Kernel  Hickey's."  A  peep  around  the  corner  of  the 
house  confirmed  the  truth  of  his  statement.  Hastily 
grasping  a  carpet-bag,  lying  ready  packed  in  the 
ambulance,  I  ascended  to  my  bedroom,  took  from  it 
two  large  pockets  quilted  thick  with  jewels  which  I 
secured  about  my  person,  while  Charlotte  put  the 
breakfast  forks  and  spoons  in  the  bottom  of  the  bag. 


no.  108]       Johnny  Reb *s  Epistle         413 

When  I  returned  to  the  teams,  everybody  was  stand- 
ing about,  apparently  waiting  to  see  what  "  Miss 
'Lize "  would  do  now.  Summoning  every  effort  to 
command  a  voice  whose  quaver  must  have  betrayed 
my  intense  emotion,  I  directed  Willy  to  mount  the 
wagon,  a  few  last  baskets  and  packages  were  tossed 
into  the  ambulance,  and  Henry's  little  pony  tied  be- 
hind. I  got  in,  then  the  little  ones  and  Sabe;  Dave 
shambled  into  his  place  in  front ;  the  curtain  cutting 
off  the  driver's  seat  was  carefully  rolled  up,  so  I 
could  have  an  unobstructed  view,  and  Willy  was  told 
to  lead  the  way. 

So  I  rode  away  from  Arlington,  leaving  the  sugar- 
house  crowded  to  its  utmost  capacity  with  the  entire 
crop  of  sugar  and  molasses  of  the  previous  year  for 
which  we  had  been  unable  to  find  a  market  within 
"  our  lines,"  leaving  cattle  grazing  in  the  fields,  sheep 
wandering  over  the  levee,  doors  and  windows  flung 
wide  open,  furniture  in  the  rooms,  clothes  too  fine  for 
me  to  wear  now  hanging  in  the  armoires,  china  in 
the  closets,  pictures  on  the  walls,  beds  unmade,  table 
spread.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  that  bright, 
clear,  bracing  day,  December  18,  1862,  that  I  bade 
Arlington  adieu  forever. 


108.    The  Johnny  Reb's  Epistle  to 
the  Ladies 

By  W.  E.  M.  (1862) 

Ye  Southern  maids  and  ladies  fair, 

Of  whatsoe'r  degree, 
A  moment  stop  —  a  moment  spare  — 

And  listen  unto  me. 


414         Women  and  the  War      [No.  108 

The  summer's  gone,  the  frosts  have  come, 

The  winter  draweth  near, 
And  still  they  march  to  fife  and  drum  — 

Our  armies  !  do  you  hear  ? 

Give  heed  then  to  the  yarn  I  spin, 

Who  says  that  it  is  coarse  ? 
At  your  fair  feet  I  lay  the  sin, 

The  thread  of  my  discourse. 


A   CONFEDERATE   SPY. 


Quarter- 
master's. 


To  speak  of  shoes,  it  boots  not  here ; 

Our  Q.  M's,  wise  and  good, 
Give  cotton  calf-skins  twice  a  year 

With  soles  of  cottonwood. 


Shoeless  we  meet  the  well-shod  foe, 
And  bootless  him  despise  ; 

Sockless  we  watch,  with  bleeding  toe, 
And  him  sockdologise ! 


no.  108]       yohnny  Reb's  Epistle        41 5 

Perchance  our  powder  giveth  out, 
We  fight  them,  then,  with  rocks ; 

With  hungry  craws  we  craw-fish  not, 
But,  then,  we  miss  the  socks. 


Few  are  the  miseries  that  we  lack, 
And  comforts  seldom  come ; 

What  have  I  in  my  haversack  ? 
And  what  have  you  at  home  ? 

Fair  ladies,  then,  if  nothing  loth, 
Bring  forth  your  spinning  wheels ; 

Knit  not  your  brow  —  but  knit  to  clothe 
In  bliss  our  blistered  heels. 

Do  not  you  take  amiss,  dear  miss, 

The  burden  of  my  yarn ; 
Alas !  I  know  there's  many  a  lass 

That  doesn't  care  a  darn. 

But  you  can  aid  us  if  you  will, 
And  heaven  will  surely  bless, 

And  Foote  will  vote  to  foot  a  bill 
For  succouring  our  distress. 

For  all  the  socks  the  maids  have  made, 
My  thanks,  for  all  the  brave ; 

And  honoured  be  your  pious  trade, 
The  soldier's  sole  to  save. 


4 1 6         Women  and  the  War      [No.  io9 


Clara  Barton, 
who  lived  to 
organize  re- 
lief for  our 
soldiers  in 
Cuba  in  1898. 


Second  Bull 
Run,  July, 
1862. 


109.    The  Angel  of  the  Battle-field 

By  Surgeon  James  L.  Dunn  (1862) 

The  Sanitary  Commission,  together  with  three  or 
four  noble,  self-sacrificing  women,  have  furnished 
everything  that  could  be  required.  I  will  tell  you  of 
one  of  these  women,  a  Miss  Barton,  the  daughter 
of  Judge  Barton,  of  Boston,  Mass.  I  first  met  her  at 
the  battle  of  Cedar  Mountain,  where  she  appeared  in 
front  of  the  hospital  at  twelve  o'clock  at  night,  with 
a  four-mule  team  loaded  with  everything  needed, 
and  at  a  time  when  we  were  entirely  out  of  dressings 
of  every  kind  ;  she  supplied  us  with  everything ;  and 
while  the  shells  were  bursting  in  every  direction,  took 
her  course  to  the  hospital  on  our  right,  where  she 
found  everything  wanting  again.  After  doing  every- 
thing she  could  on  the  field,  she  returned  to  Culpep- 
per, where  she  staid  dealing  out  shirts  to  the  naked 
wounded,  and  preparing  soup,  and  seeing  it  prepared, 
in  all  the  hospitals.  I  thought  that  night  if  Heaven 
ever  sent  out  an  angel,  she  must  be  one,  her  assist- 
ance was  so  timely.  Well,  we  began  our  retreat  up 
the  Rappahannock.  I  thought  no  more  of  our  lady 
friend,  only  that  she  had  gone  back  to  Washington. 
We  arrived  on  the  disastrous  field  of  Bull  Run ;  and 
while  the  battle  was  raging  the  fiercest  on  Friday, 
who  should  drive  up  in  front  of  our  hospital  but  this 
same  woman,  with  her  mules  almost  dead,  having 
made  forced  marches  from  Washington  to  the  army. 
She  was  again  a  welcome  visitor  to  both  the  wounded 
and  the  surgeons. 

The  battle  was  over,  our  wounded  removed  on 
Sunday,  and  we  were  ordered  to  Fairfax  Station ;  we 


no.  log]    Angel  of  the  Battle-field     417 

had  hardly  got  there  before  the  battle  of  Chantilly 
commenced,  and  soon  the  wounded  began  to  come 
in.  Here  we  had  nothing  but  our  instruments  —  not 
even  a  bottle  of  wine.  When  the  cars  whistled  up 
to  the  station,  the  first  person  on  the  platform  was 
Miss  Barton,  to  supply  us  again  with  bandages, 
brandy,  wine,  prepared  soup,  jellies,  meal,  and  every 
article  that  could  be  thought  of.  She  staid  there 
until  the  last  wounded  soldier  was  placed  on  the  cars, 
and  then  bade  us  good-by  and  left. 

I  wrote  you  at  the  time  how  we  got  to  Alexandria 
that  night  and  next  morning.  Our  soldiers  had  no 
time  to  rest  after  reaching  Washington,  but  were 
ordered  to  Maryland  by  forced  marches.  Several 
days  of  hard  marching  brought  us  to  Frederick,  and 
the  battle  of  South  Mountain  followed.  The  next 
day  our  army  stood  face  to  face  with  the  whole  force. 
The  rattle  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  muskets, 
and  the  fearful  thunder  of  over  two  hundred  cannon, 
told  us  that  the  great  battle  of  Antietam  had  com- 
menced. I  was  in  a  hospital  in  the  afternoon,  for  it 
was  then  only  that  the  wounded  began  to  come  in. 

We  had  expended  every  bandage,  torn  up  every 
sheet  in  the  house,  and  everything  we  could  find, 
when  who  should  drive  up  but  our  old  friend  Miss 
Barton,  with  a  team  loaded  down  with  dressings  of 
every  kind,  and  everything  we  could  ask  for.  She 
distributed  her  articles  to  the  different  hospitals, 
worked  all  night  making  soup,  all  the  next  day  and 
night;  and  when  I  left,  four  days  after  the  battle, 
I  left  her  there  ministering  to  the  wounded  and 
the  dying.  When  I  returned  to  the  field  hospital 
last  week,  she  was  still  at  work,  supplying  them  with 
delicacies  of  every  kind,  and  administering  to  their 


418 


Women  and  the  War      [No.  iog 


wants  —  all  of  which  she  does  out  of  her  own  private 
fortune.  Now,  what  do  you  think  of  Miss  Barton  ? 
In  my  feeble  estimation,  General  McClellan,  with  all 
his  laurels,  sinks  into  insignificance  beside  the  true 
heroine  of  the  age  —  the  angel  of  the  battle-field. 


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STUDENT'S    HISTORY    OF   THE    UNITED   STATES 

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TTMTVF^SITY   OF   0 


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THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  EAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

AN     .NITIAL     ^^^0?™ 

W.U.  BE   ASSESSED    ™    ^"^  PENALTY 
THIS   BOOK  ON   THE    °«EDU  FOURTH 

S?  ir  to  \™ I^hTsevehth    0*v 

OVERDUE. 


MAR  15  1933 
MAY  16  1934 


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DEC  19  BSO 

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JUL  1  2  1989 

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